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OF  MODERN  KNOWLEDGE 

No.  41 

Editor -i: 

HERBERT    FISHER,  M.A.,  F.B.A. 
F*OP.  GILBERT  MURRAY,  LiTT.D., 

LL.D.,  F.B.A. 

P«OF.  J.   ARTHUR    THOMSON,  M.A. 
PKOF.  WILLIAM  T.  BREWSTER,  M.A. 


A  complete  classified  list  of  the  volumes  of  THE 
HOME  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY  already  published 
will  be  found  at  the  back  of  this  book. 


PSYCHOLOGY 

THE  STUDY  OF  BEHAVIOUR 


BY 

WILLIAM   McDOUGALL,  M.B. 

READER  IN   MENTAL  PHILOSOPHY  IN  THE 
UNIVERSITY   OF    OXFORD 


NEW   YORK 
HENRY   HOLT  AND   COMPANY 

LONDON 
WILLIAMS   AND   NORGATE 


COPYRIGHT,  191*, 

BY 
HENRY    HOLT   AND    COMPANY 


i 


/H33 

PREFACE 

WHAT  is  psychology?  With  what  is  it  con- 
cerned ?  What  are  the  questions  it  seeks  to 
answer  ?  How  is  it  setting  about  its  task?  What 
are  its  methods  ?  What  progress  has  it  made  ? 
Is  it  a  science  in  an  advanced  stage  of  develop- 
ment ?  Or  is  it  one  merely  beginning  to  find  its 
feet,  to  take  definite  shape,  and  to  map  out  clearly 
its  programme  of  work  ?  Above  all,  what  may 
we  hope  from  it  in  the  way  of  addition  to  our 
power  of  understanding  human  nature  and  of 
contributing  to  the  welfare  of  mankind  ? 

These  are  the  questions  which  I  shall  attempt 
to  answer  in  this  book  as  simply  as  the  difficulties 
of  the  subject  will  permit  ;  hoping  that  some  at 
least  of  my  readers  will  be  led  to  feel  the  fascina- 
tion of  the  study  and  stimulated  to  pursue  it 
further  in  one  or  more  of  its  several  branches, 

W.  McD. 
OXFORD,  Feb.,  1912. 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PACK 

I    THE  PROVINCE  or  PSYCHOLOGY 9 

II    THE  STUDY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS 39 

III  THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND 71 

IV  THE  METHODS  AND  DEPARTMENTS  OF  PSYCHOLOGY  If  9 
V    THE  STUDY  OF  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR    ....  138 

VI    THE   STUDY   OF  CHILDHOOD,  AND  INDIVIDUAL 

PSYCHOLOGY 180 

VII    ABNORMAL  PSYCHOLOGY 193 

VIII    SOCIAL  PSYCHOLOGY 229 

BIBLIOGRAPHY  .                                                     ,  255 


Tii 


PSYCHOLOGY 

CHAPTER  I 

THE   PROVINCE   OP   PSYCHOLOGY 

To  define  exactly  the  province  of  any  one 
of  the  natural  sciences  is  in  no  case  an  easy 
task.  We  define  them  roughly,  and  suffi- 
ciently perhaps  for  most  purposes,  by  point- 
ing to  the  classes  of  natural  objects  which  the 
several  sciences  study;  for  example,  we  say 
that  geology  is  the  science  of  the  crust  of  the 
earth.  But  such  a  definition  is  not  exact  or 
exhaustive.  Geology  overlaps  with  many 
other  sciences;  with  mineralogy,  when  it 
studies  mineral  formations  as  part  of  the 
earth's  crust;  with  biology,  when  it  studies 
the  fossil  remains  of  animals  and  plants;  with 
astronomy  or  cosmogony,  when  it  considers 
the  conditions  of  the  first  formation  of  the 
earth's  crust. 

The  difficulty  of  marking  out  the  provinces 
of  the  several  branches  of  science  is  peculiarly 
great  with  those  which  deal  with  living 
9 


10  PSYCHOLOGY 

things.  Full  and  accurate  definition  would 
only  be  possible  in  the  light  of  complete  knowl- 
edge. And  at  present  our  knowledge  of 
living  things  is  very  imperfect.  We  can  see 
already  that,  as  our  knowledge  grows,  new 
departments  of  the  science  of  life  have  to  be 
created,  and  that  our  conceptions  of  the 
relations  between  the  several  branches  must 
undergo  great  changes.  It  seems  wiser,  then, 
to  determine  the  provinces  of  our  sciences  in 
a  provisional  manner  only,  and  with  reference 
to  the  state  of  development,  the  methods  of 
study,  and  the  practical  needs,  of  each  one, 
rather  than  to  attempt  any  final  and  rigid 
definition  of  them  by  reference  to  the  classes 
of  objects  with  which  they  are  severally 
concerned.  Further,  we  ought  to  define  the 
province  of  a  science  in  terms  which  are  as 
free  as  possible  from  theoretical  or  specula- 
tive implications,  and  which  denote  only  fa- 
miliarly known  objects,  generally  recognized 
distinctions,  and  well-observed  facts. 

If,  in  the  light  of  these  consideratibns,  we 
examine  the  definitions  of  psychology  that 
have  been  most  widely  accepted,  we  find 
them  to  be  unsatisfactory.  The  word  psy- 
chology was  formed  from  the  Greek  words 
for  soul  and  science  respectively,  and  was 
designed  to  mark  off  the  study  of  the  soul  or 


THE  PROVINCE  OF  PSYCHOLOGY     11 

of  souls  as  a  special  department  of  science. 
But  what  are  souls?  To  mark  out  the 
province  of  psychology  in  this  way  is  to  accept 
a  theory  of  the  constitution  of  human  nature 
which  has  come  down  to  us  from  remote 
antiquity  and  which  is  still  widely  held;  the 
theory,  namely,  that  each  human  personality 
is  composed  of  two  very  dissimilar  parts  or 
principles,  soul  and  body  respectively.  The 
soul  was  regarded  as  capable  of  existing  apart 
from  the  material  body  and  as  lending  it, 
during  its  temporary  union  with  it,  all  those 
peculiarities  which  distinguish  the  living  body 
from  inanimate  things.  In  the  earliest  times 
the  soul  was  generally  thought  of  as  consisting 
of  a  very  thin  or  subtle  kind  of  matter,  related 
to  air  much  as  air  is  related  to  solid  matter. 
This  subtle  fluid  or  spirit  was  supposed  to 
permeate  every  part  of  the  body;  and,  though 
it  was  thus  extended  throughout  the  body,  it 
was  nevertheless  a  distinct  entity  capable  of 
existing  apart  from  it.  After  the  death  of 
the  body  it  continued  to  exist,  and  might 
appear  as  a  dim  vapour-like  duplicate  of  it, 
or  ghost.  And  even  during  life,  this  ghost- 
soul  might  withdraw  for  a  time,  as  during 
sleep  or  trance,  and  appear  in  other  places. 

Plato,  the  greatest  of  the  philosophers  of 
ancient  Greece,  rejected  this  notion  of  the 


12  PSYCHOLOGY 

soul  as  a  vapour-like  duplicate  of  the  body. 
He  regarded  the  soul  as  a  being  of  a  nature 
radically  different  from  that  of  material 
things;  as  incapable  of  being  perceived  by  the 
senses,  and  only  to  be  grasped  by  the  intel- 
lect. Nevertheless,  he  taught  that  this  being 
exists  both  before  and  after  its  union  with  the 
body,  which  union  is  but  a  minor  incident  of 
its  long  career.  Aristotle,  the  greatest  of 
Plato's  successors,  wrote  a  celebrated  treatise 
"On  the  Soul,"  which  is  generally  regarded  as 
the  first  important  work  devoted  to  psychol- 
ogy. He  rejected  the  traditional  notion  of  the 
soul,  and  regarded  it  rather  as  the  sum  of  the 
vital  functions:  his  attention  was  directed 
to  the  peculiarities  which  distinguish  living 
beings  from  inert  things;  and  to  say  that  a 
thing  possessed  a  soul  was  for  him  but  a 
convenient  way  of  saying  that  it  exhibited 
some  or  all  of  these  peculiarities.  As  to  the 
question  whether  these  functions  are  attribu- 
table to  a  being  or  entity  that  can  in  any  sense 
continue  to  exist  after  the  dissolution  of  the 
body,  he  professed  himself  unable  to  arrive 
at  any  definite  opinion. 

Through  the  Middle  Ages  philosophers 
continued  to  debate  the  nature  of  the  soul 
and  its  functions.  The  most  generally  ac- 
cepted view  of  the  soul  was  one  which  com- 


THE  PROVINCE  OF  PSYCHOLOGY      13 

bined  the  teachings  of  Aristotle  with  Plato's 
conception  of  it  as  an  immaterial  being  that 
may  continue  to  exercise  its  functions  apart 
from,  and  after  the  death  of,  the  body.  And 
the  natural  result  of  the  prevalence  of  this 
view  was  a  tendency  to  concentrate  attention 
upon  the  higher  or  purely  intellectual  func- 
tions of  the  soul,  and  to  neglect  the  considera- 
tion of  the  bodily  functions,  which  Aristotle 
had  regarded  as  an  important  part  of  the  ex- 
pressions of  soul-life;  for  these  implied  the 
conjunction  of  soul  and  body.  In  the  seven- 
teenth century,  this  tendency  culminated  in 
the  teaching  of  Descartes,  the  founder  of 
modern  philosophy.  He  boldly  asserted  that 
the  bodies  of  men  and  annuals  differ  in  no  wise 
from  other  material  things,  but  are  merely 
very  complicated  machines  whose  workings 
are  to  be  explained  by  the  mechanical  princi- 
ples which  enable  us  to  understand  the  proc- 
esses of  other  machines.  To  man  alone  of 
all  living  beings  he  assigned  a  soul,  and  this 
soul  exercised  only  the  higher  mental  func- 
tions of  thought  and  volition. 

The  definite  formulation  of  the  strictly 
mechanical  view  of  nature  had  led  Descartes 
to  this  position;  and  the  rapid  progress  of 
the  physical  sciences  strengthened  men's 
belief  in  the  all -sufficiency  of  this  mechanical 


14  PSYCHOLOGY 

view,  and  soon  led  them  to  ask — Why,  if 
animals  are  merely  complex  machines,  should 
man  be  regarded  as  anything  but  one  of  still 
greater  complexity?  What,  they  asked,  is 
the  soul?  And  they  answered — It  is  a 
wholly  fictitious  notion,  generated  by  super- 
stition and  maintained  by  priests  in  order  to 
strengthen  their  influence  and  to  support  the 
authority  of  the  Church.  In  this  way  Des- 
cartes' bold  speculations  led  on  to  the  dog- 
matic materialism  which  became  very  widely 
accepted  in  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth 
centuries.  Philosophers,  being  thus  chal- 
lenged to  provide  a  scientific  foundation  for 
the  notion  of  the  soul,  found  themselves  in  a 
great  difficulty.  Some  of  them,  like  John 
Locke,  fell  back  upon  revealed  religion  as  the 
only  sure  ground  for  the  belief  in  the  soul. 
Bishop  Berkeley  attacked  materialism  by 
subtly  impugning  men's  belief  in  the  reality 
of  material  things.  But  one  of  the  most 
influential  writers  of  that  time,  the  great 
Scotch  sceptic,  David  Hume,  brilliantly 
argued  that  the  existence  of  the  soul  was 
merely  a  tradition  which  had  been  uncriti- 
cally accepted,  and  that  no  demonstration  of 
its  existence  ever  had  been,  or  could  be, 
made. 

Thus,  towards  the  close  of  the  eighteenth 


THE  PROVINCE  OF  PSYCHOLOGY      15 

century,  materialism  and  thorough-going 
scepticism  seemed  to  be  the  only  alternatives 
approved  by  philosophy.  At  this  juncture 
appeared  Immanuel  Kant,  who  offered  a  new 
way  of  escape  from  this  dilemma.  He 
argued  that,  in  perceiving  material  objects, 
we  can  know  only  their  appearances,  and 
that  the  nature  of  our  conceptions  of  the 
physical  world  is  largely  determined  by  the 
nature  of  our  minds.  What  we  call  the  world 
of  nature  or  the  physical  world  is,  then,  but 
the  appearance  to  us  of  some  reality  of  whose 
real  nature  we  can  form  no  idea,  because  the 
nature  of  these  appearances  or  phenomena  is 
determined  so  largely  by  the  constitution  of 
our  own  minds:  even  the  laws  of  physical 
nature  which  we  believe  we  discover,  such  as 
the  laws  of  causation  and  of  mechanical 
operation,  are  laws  which  express  the  nature 
of  our  minds  rather  than  of  that  unknowable 
reality  which  appears  to  us  as  the  material 
world.  He  argued  further  that  our  minds 
also  are  inaccessible  to  our  direct  observation, 
and  that  we  have  direct  knowledge  only  of 
mental  phenomena  or  appearances.  Never- 
theless he  maintained  that,  although  we  can- 
not establish  the  existence  or  describe  the 
nature  of  the  soul  by  the  methods  of  science, 
consideration  of  our  moral  nature  justifies  us 


16  PSYCHOLOGY 

in  believing  in  its  existence  as  an  immortal 
super-sensible  being. 

Later  thinkers  have  for  the  most  part 
accepted  Kant's  demonstration  of  the  phe- 
nomenal character  of  the  physical  world;  but 
they  have  found  his  argument  in  support  of 
the  belief  in  the  soul  wholly  unconvincing; 
and  subsequent  efforts  to  establish  the  exist- 
ence and  define  the  nature  of  the  soul  have 
not  been  generally  recognized  as  successful. 

This  very  imperfect  outline  of  the  history 
of  thought  on  the  soul  will  serve  to  show  why 
it  is  no  longer  possible  to  define  psychology 
as  the  science  of  the  soul;  for  it  shows  that 
the  notion  of  the  soul  is  a  speculative  hypoth- 
esis, one  much  too  vague  and  uncertain  to 
be  made  the  essential  notion  in  the  defini- 
tion of  a  large  province  of  natural  science. 
This  being  the  position  in  regard  to  the  soul, 
many  modern  writers  have  preferred  to  define 
psychology  as  the  science  of  the  miiid.  But 
this  also  is  unsatisfactory.  For,  in  the  first 
place,  to  say  nothing  of  other  departments  of 
philosophy,  logic  claims  to  be  a  science  of 
mind  ctistinct  from,  and  more  or  less  inde- 
pendent of,  psychology;  and  the  definition 
thus  fails  to  mark  off  the  province  of  psy- 
chology. Secondly,  the  definition  is  stated  in 
terms  of  an  extremely  ill-defined  object.  For 


THE  PROVINCE  OF  PSYCHOLOGY      17 

who  can  tell  us  exactly  what  mind,  or  a  mind,, 
is?  When  we  ask  this  question,  we  raise  at 
once  some  of  the  profoundest  and  most  dis- 
puted problems  of  philosophy. 

Some  modern  writers,  recognizing  these- 
objections,  propose  to  improve  on  this  defini- 
tion by  saying  that  psychology  is  the  science- 
of  consciousness;  for,  they  say,  each  one  of  us 
has  immediate,  direct  and  positive  knowledge 
of  consciousness.  But  to  this  proposal  there 
are  two  very  serious  objections.  First,  each 
of  us  has  immediate  knowledge  of  his  own. 
consciousness  only;  the  consciousness  of 
other  persons  is  only  inferred  by  him  from 
their  behaviour,  and  imagined  after  the 
analogy  of  his  own  consciousness.  Yet 
psychology  certainly  aims  at  arriving  at  con- 
clusions which  shall  hold  good  of  men  in  gen- 
eral. And  when  we  turn  to  the  animals,  thiV 
objection  appears  still  more  formidable. 
Secondly,  when  we  study  consciousness,  we 
realize  that  the  most  complete  description  of 
the  consciousness  of  any  one  person,  or  even, 
the  description,  in  general  terms,  of  the  con- 
sciousness of  men  in  general,  would  not  con- 
stitute a  science,  certainly  not  the  science 
which  psychology  hopes  to  become.  For  such 
descriptions  would  not  enable  us  to  under- 
stand why  any  particular  consciousness  takes 


38  PSYCHOLOGY 

the  form  described,  nor  would  it  in  itself 
add  anything  to  our  power  of  controlling  the 
course  of  nature. 

Some  of  those  who  define  psychology  as  the 
science  of  consciousness  are  content  to  do  so, 
•because  they  hold  a  certain  theory  of  the  na- 
ture of  man.  They  agree  with  Descartes  in 
regarding  the  body  as  merely  a  complicated 
machine,  and  all  its  processes  as  mechanically 
determined ;  so  that  every  detail  of  behaviour, 
'whether  of  man  or  of  animal,  is  hi  principle 

•  explicable  in  terms  of  the  bodily  mechanism, 
.and  falls  within  the  province  of  physiology, 

which,  in  turn,  is  but  a  special  department  of 
pTiysical  science.  And  the  modern  exponents 

•  of  this  view  do  not  follow  Descartes  in  regard- 
ing thought  as  a  manifestation  of  a  soul 
informing  the  machine;  they  say  rather  that 
consciousness  is  merely,  as  it  were,  a  phos- 
phorescent glow  generated  by  the  working 
of  certain  parts  of  the  machine;   or  they  say 
tthat  it  is  certain  processes  of  the  machine  of 
which  we  become  aware  in  a  more  immediate 
jand  intimate  way  than  the  indirect  way  of 
.sense-perception. 

Now,  if  this  view  were  established,  the  task 
of  psychology  might  properly  be  defined  as 
the  description  of  consciousness;  though  it 
would  be  a  work  of  very  small  importance 


THE  PROVINCE  OF  PSYCHOLOGY      19 

and  unworthy  of  the  name  of  a  science.  But 
this  view  of  the  nature  of  living  beings  is 
a  speculation  of  very  doubtful  value;  and  we 
have  agreed  to  try  to  define  our  science  in 
terms  which  imply  no  theories,  but  rather 
familiar  and  unquestionable  facts  only. 

If,  then,  we  ask — What  facts  are  there 
which  are  actually  observed  and  studied  by 
the  psychologist  and  which  do  not  fall  wholly 
within  the  province  of  any  other  science? 
the  answer  must  be  twofold;  namely,  (1)  hi* 
own  consciousness,  and  (2)  the  behaviour  of 
men  and  of  animals  in  general.  His  ami  is  to 
increase  our  understanding  of,  and  our  power 
of  guidance  and  control  over,  the  behaviour 
of  men  and  animals;  and  he  uses  what  knowl- 
edge he  can  gain  of  consciousness  to  aid  him 
in  achieving  such  understanding  of  behaviour- 

We  may  then  define  psychology  as  the 
positive  science  of  the  behaviour  of  living 
things.  To  accept  this  definition  is  to  return, 
to  the  standpoint  of  Aristotle,  and  to  set  out 
from  generally  recognized  facts,  unprejudiced 
by  theories.  We  all  recognize  broadly  that 
the  things  which  make  up  our  world  of 
perceptible  objects  fall  into  two  great  classes, 
namely,  inert  things,  whose  movements  and 
changes  seem  to  be  strictly  determined 
according  to  mechanicaJ  laws,  and  living' 


SO  PSYCHOLOGY 

things,  which  behave  or  exhibit  behaviour; 
and,  when  we  say  that  they  exhibit  behaviour, 
we  mean  that  they  seem  to  have  an  intrinsic 
power  of  self-determination,  and  to  pursue 
actively  or  with  effort  their  own  welfare  and 
their  own  ends  or  purposes. 

The  manifestation  of  purpose  or  the  striving 
to  achieve  an  end  is,  then,  the  mark  of  be- 
haviour; and  behaviour  is  the  characteristic 
of  living  things.  This  criterion  of  life  is  one 
of  which  we  all  make  use;  but  most  of  us 
have  not  reflected  upon  it,  and  we  may  dwell 
upon  it  for  a  moment  with  advantage.  Take 
a  billiard  ball  from  the  pocket  and  place  it 
upon  the  table.  It  remains  at  rest,  and  would 
•continue  to  remain  so  for  an  indefinitely  long 
time,  if  no  force  were  applied  to  it,  no  work 
<ione  upon  it.  Push  it  in  any  direction,  and 
its  movement  in  that  direction  persists  until 
its  momentum  is  exhausted,  or  until  it  is 
deflected  by  the  resistance  of  the  cushion  and 
follows  a  new  path  mechanically  determined. 
"This  is  the  type  of  mechanical  movement. 
^Now  contrast  with  this  an  instance  of  be- 
haviour. Take  a  timid  animal,  such  as  a 
.guinea-pig,  from  its  hole  or  nest,  and  put  it 
upon  the  grass-plot.  Instead  of  remaining 
At  rest,  it  runs  back  to  its  hole;  push  it  in  any 
other  direction,  and,  as  soon  as  you  withdraw 


THE  PROVINCE  OF  PSYCHOLOGY      21 

your  hand,  it  turns  back  towards  its  hole; 
place  any  obstacle  in  its  way,  and  it  seeks  to> 
circumvent  or  surmount  it,  restlessly  persist- 
ing until  it  achieves  its  end  or  until  its  energy 
is  exhausted. 

That  is  an  example  of  behaviour  from  the 
middle  region  of  the  scale  of  complexity; 
consideration  of  it  reveals  very  clearly  the 
great  difference  between  behaviour  and  me- 
chanical process.  As  an  instance  higher  in 
the  scale  of  complexity,  consider  a  dog  taken 
from  its  home  and  shut  up  at  some  distant 
place.  There,  no  matter  how  kindly  treated, 
he  remains  restless,  trying  constantly  to  es- 
cape and,  perhaps,  refusing  food  and  wasting 
away;  when  released,  he  sets  out  for  home, 
and  runs  many  miles  across  country  without 
stopping  till  he  reaches  it,  following  perhaps 
a  direct  route  if  the  country  is  familiar  to  him, 
or  perhaps  only  reaching  home  after  much 
wandering  hither  and  thither. 

As  an  example  from  the  upper  end  of  the 
scale  of  behaviour,  consider  the  case  of  a  man 
who  loves  his  native  land,  but  who,  in 
order  to  earn  his  daily  bread,  has  accepted  a 
position  in  some  distant  country.  There 
he  faithfully  performs  the  tasks  he  has  under- 
taken; but  always  his  dominant  purpose  i* 
to  save  enough  money  to  enable  him  to  return 


£2  PSYCHOLOGY 

and  to  make  a  home  in  his  native  land;  this 
is  the  prime  motive  of  all  his  behaviour,  to 
which  all  other  motives  are  subordinated. 
We  best  understand  this  last  behaviour,  if  the 
exile  tells  us  that  he  constantly  pictures  to 
Mmself  his  beloved  native  place  and  the 
•enjoyments  that  he  hopes  to  find  there.  For 
we  know  well  what  it  is  to  foresee  an  event 
and  ardently  to  desire  it.  Even  if  the  exile 
be  but  a  dull-minded  peasant,  incapable 
of  explicitly  anticipating  the  delights  of  his 
return,  who  seems  to  be  affected  merely  by  a 
homesickness  which  he  cannot  express  or 
justify  in  words,  we  still  feel  that  we  can  in 
some  measure  understand  his  state  and  his 
behaviour.  We  feel  this  also  of  the  dog  in 
the  foregoing  instance,  and  in  a  less  degree 
of  the  animal  of  our  first  example.  For  we, 
too,  have  experienced  a  vague  and  formless 
unrest,  an  impulsion  to  strive  persistently 
towards  an  end  which  we  can  neither  clearly 
formulate  nor  rationally  justify;  we,  too,  have 
experienced  how  obstruction  to  such  activity 
does  but  accentuate  our  impulse,  how  success- 
ful progress  towards  the  end  brings  us  a 
A'ague  though  profound  satisfaction,  and  how 
achievement  of  the  end  can  alone  relieve  our 
inward  unrest. 

These,  then,  are  indisputable  instances  of 


THE  PROVINCE  OF  PSYCHOLOGY      23? 

behaviour.  They  are  only  to  be  understood 
or  explained  after  the  analogy  of  our  own 
experiences  of  effort  or  striving.  No  attempt 
to  explain  such  facts  mechanically  has  at 
present  the  least  plausibility,  or  can  in  any 
degree  aid  us  in  understanding  or  control- 
ling them.  Now  the  same  is  true,  though 
perhaps  less  obviously  true,  of  still  simpler 
forms  of  behaviour.  Let  us  consider  a  few  in. 
descending  order  in  the  scale  of  complexity. 

The  migratory  bird,  arriving  in  springy 
takes  up  her  abode  in  a  coppice,  yields  to  the 
blandishments  of  her  mate,  builds  a  nest, 
lays  her  eggs,  and  sits  upon  them,  silent  and 
motionless  for  many  days,  until  the  young  are 
hatched.  Then,  with  incessant  activity,  she 
cherishes  them,  feeding  them  hour  by  hour 
and  minute  by  minute,  until  they  attain  to 
independence.  With  the  turn  of  the  year, 
her  great  task  accomplished,  she  faces  south- 
wards again  and,  with  tireless  wings,  returns 
across  great  tracts  of  land  and  sea  to  her 
winter  home;  there  to  remain  until  in  the 
following  spring  she  comes  back,  once  more 
flying  thousands  of  miles  to  reach  the  same 
hedgerow  among  all  the  thousands  in  our 
English  counties,  and  to  repeat  there  the  cycle 
of  her  activities.  That  again  is  unmistakably 
a  cycle  of  behaviour.  At  every  stage  the 


24  PSYCHOLOGY 

actions  of  the  bird  may  be  varied  in  detail 
indefinitely;  but  always  they  are  dominated 
by  the  same  cycle  of  purposes  in  which  the 
great  purpose  of  her  life  successively  manifests 
itself — the  perpetuation  of  the  life  of  her  race 
according  to  its  specific  type  and  kind.  If  at 
any  stage  her  activities  are  obstructed,  her 
efforts  are  redoubled;  destroy  her  nest,  and 
she  builds  another;  take  away  one  or  more 
of  her  eggs,  and  she  lays  others  to  replace 
them;  attack  her  young,  and  she  resists  you 
with  all  her  feeble  powers;  shut  her  up,  when 
the  time  comes  for  her  flight  to  Africa,  and 
she  beats  against  the  bars  that  confine  her, 
with  ceaseless  and  varied  movements,  until 
she  escapes  or  is  exhausted;  take  away  her 
mate,  the  indispensable  partner  of  her  labours, 
and  she.  pines,  perhaps  even  to  death.  How 
far  the  bird  foresees  the  ends  of  her  manifold 
activities  we  cannot  say;  though  we  have 
good  reason  to  believe  that  she  foresees  at 
each  step  no  more  than  the  immediate  effect 
or  end  of  each  step.  Yet  we  cannot  doubt 
that  such  trains  of  activity  are  more  closely 
allied  in  nature  to  our  own  purposive  activities 
than  to  any  sequences  of  inorganic  nature, 
and  that  they  are  therefore  properly  regarded 
as  behaviour. 

Going  a  stage  lower  in  the  scale  of  life, 


THE  PROVINCE  OF  PSYCHOLOGY      25 

consider  the  salmon  which,  in  due  season, 
having  attained  a  certain  stage  of  develop- 
ment in  the  open  sea,  enters  the  mouth  of  a 
river,  and  ascends  the  stream  to  deposit  its 
eggs  in  the  bed  of  some  remote  tributary. 
The  ascent  of  a  large  and  swift  river  contain- 
ing many  rapids  and  water-falls  involves 
ceaseless  and  varied  efforts  extending  through 
a  period  of  many  weeks,  during  which  the  fish 
takes  no  food,  but  consumes  the  latent  energy 
of  the  substance  of  its  muscles.  This,  too,  is 
an  undeniable  example  of  behaviour,  which 
we  can  only  understand  in  any  degree  in  the 
light  of  its  analogy  with  our  own  behaviour, 
and  which  is  utterly  unlike  any  phenomenon 
of  inorganic  nature. 

In  the  great  world  of  invertebrate  life,  the 
same  great  fact  of  the  prevalence  of  behav- 
iour, or  of  purposive  effort  to  maintain  the 
life  of  the  species,  confronts  us  on  every  hand. 
The  solitary  wasp  hunts  assiduously  all  day 
long  for  her  prey,  and  having  secured,  per- 
haps, a  fat  caterpillar  considerably  heavier 
than  herself,  drags  it  toilfully  over,  under,  or 
around  a  thousand  obstacles  to  the  nest  she 
has  prepared  beforehand;  there  to  seal  it  up 
together  with  her  egg,  that  it  may  serve  as 
food  to  the  offspring  which  she  will  never  see. 
The  earthworm,  coming  up  from  its  burrow 


26  PSYCHOLOGY 

and  finding  a  leaf  upon  the  ground,  explores 
its  boundaries,  seizes  it  by  its  apex  or  in 
whatever  manner  and  position  most  facilitates 
its  entry  to  the  burrow,  and  drags  it  down. 
And  the  movements  of  other  worms  of  even 
simpler  type  exhibit  the  characteristic  marks 
of  behaviour;  namely,  persistent  striving 
with  variation  of  means  employed  under  un- 
changed external  conditions,  when  the  first 
movements  fail  to  achieve  the  end.  The  star- 
fish, turned  over  so  that  it  lies  upon  its  back, 
makes  incessant  and  varied  efforts  with  its 
arms  to  get  a  grip  upon  the  ground,  and, 
having  done  so,  rights  itself  by  a  combined 
action  of  all  its  parts.  And  even  among  the 
lowliest  of  all  animals,  the  unicellular  and 
microscopic  Protozoa,  behaviour  is  again  the 
rule.  The  Amoeba,  a  mere  speck  of  formless 
jelly,  on  becoming  detached  from  the  sub- 
merged surface  on  which  it  creeps,  throws 
out  long  feelers  in  all  directions,  until  one  of 
them  comes  in  contact  with  a  solid  object; 
to  this  the  whole  creature  then  attaches  itself, 
in  order  to  resume  its  normal  mode  of  move- 
ment. Or,  having  come  in  contact  with  a 
smaller  specimen  of  its  own  kind,  it  pursues 
its  prey  persistently,  making  repeated  efforts 
to  englobe  it  for  its  own  nourishment.  The 
slipper  animalcule  darts  hither  and  thither 


THE  PROVINCE  OF  PSYCHOLOGY      27 

in  search  of  prey,  and  may  be  seen  to  pursue 
other  and  smaller  creatures. 

Now  let  us  turn  to  consider  a  class  of  facts 
of  a  somewhat  different  kind,  phenomena 
which  we  cannot  so  confidently  describe  as 
behaviour.  The  primary  task  of  every 
animal  species  is  to  produce  eggs,  and  to  set 
them  in  the  world  under  such  conditions,  and 
to  afford  them  such  protection,  as  they  need 
for  their  development  into  perfect  repre- 
sentatives of  the  species.  This  feat,  to  the 
accomplishment  of  which  almost  all  of  the 
behaviour  of  animals  is  either  directly  or 
indirectly  devoted,  is  but  the  first  part  of  the 
cycle  of  reproduction  on  which  the  perpetu- 
ation of  the  species  depends.  The  consumma- 
tion of  the  cycle  lies  with  the  egg.  The  series 
of  changes  through  which  this  consummation 
is  effected  is,  in  nearly  all  cases,  one  of  mar- 
vellous complexity  and  marvellous  nicety. 
Compared  with  such  a  series  of  changes,  the 
most  wonderful  processes  of  our  machines, 
such  as  those  by  which  a  garment  is  woven 
or  a  newspaper  printed,  are  relatively  coarse 
and  ridiculously  simple.  But,  immensely 
as  they  exceed  in  nicety  and  complexity  the 
processes  of  our  machines,  these  processes  of 
development  differ  in  a  much  more  funda- 
mental manner  from  all  purely  mechanical 


28  PSYCHOLOGY 

processes;  namely,  just  like  the  activities 
of  the  animal  seeking  for  its  prey  or  return- 
ing to  its  nest,  the  developmental  processes 
persistently  tend  towards  the  end  natural  or 
proper  to  the  species,  overcoming  obstacles 
and  adjusting  themselves  in  a  number  of 
alternative  ways  to  peculiarities  and  changes 
in  their  environment,  and  even  rectifying 
themselves  or  returning  to  their  normal  course 
after  being  grossly  deflected  or  disturbed. 

These  phenomena  have  been  minutely 
studied  in  recent  years;  and,  though  our 
knowledge  in  this  field  is  still  in  its  earliest 
stages,  we  know  that  the  embryo  or  develop- 
ing germ  of  many  species  may,  in  spite  of 
being  severely  mutilated,  cut  in  halves,  or 
completely  deformed,  restore  the  normal  pro- 
portions of  its  parts  and  the  normal  course 
of  development,  and  may  thus  achieve  its 
specific  end  and  complete  the  cycle  of  activi- 
ties of  which  a  part  only  was  achieved  by  the 
efforts  of  the  parents.  In  these  highly  signifi- 
cant respects  the  process  of  the  building  up  of 
the  body  is  very  closely  analogous  to  typical 
processes  of  behaviour,  for  example,  to  the 
building  of  its  nest  by  a  bird,  or  to  the  building 
of  their  comb  by  bees.  There  is  the  same 
persistent  tendency  towards  the  specific  type, 
which  triumphs  over  obstacles,  effects  adapta- 


THE  PROVINCE  OF  PSYCHOLOGY      29 

tion  to  unusual  conditions,  and  restores  the  nor- 
mal course  of  events  after  gross  mechanical 
interferences  or  distortions.  In  both  classes 
of  process,  even  the  most  extreme  interfer- 
ences may  be  rectified  by  a  resolution  or 
undoing  of  the  stages  achieved  and  a  re-start- 
ing from  the  initial  stage;  the  birds  rebuild 
their  nest,  or  the  bees  their  comb,  from  the 
foundation  upwards;  the  mutilated  germ  re- 
solves itself  into  a  formless  mass,  within  which 
the  process  of  gradual  organization  of  specific 
structures  sets  in  anew,  and  so  re-establishes 
the  normal  cycle  and  achieves  the  normal 
end. 

These  processes  of  the  bodily  growth  of 
animals  are,  then,  closely  analogous  with 
truly  purposive  activity  or  behaviour,  and 
they  present  features  nothing  analogous  to 
which  can  be  found  in  inorganic  nature,  the 
realm  of  purely  mechanical  causation.  It  is 
true  that  such  processes  of  growth  comprise 
many  details  which  can  be  described  in  terms 
of  physics  and  chemistry.  But  the  same  is 
true  of  all  behaviour;  the  most  clearly  con- 
ceived and  strongly  willed  ends  of  human 
beings  are  only  achieved  by  the  aid  of  much 
detailed  process  of  mechanical  type.  What 
is  characteristic  of  processes  of  both  classes 
is  the  appearance  of  effective  dominance  of 


SO  PSYCHOLOGY 

the  mechanical  factors  by  purposive  guidance 
towards  a  specific  end  or  goal. 

If  we  make  our  notion  of  purposive  activity 
or  behaviour  wide  enough  to  include  these 
phenomena  of  bodily  organization  in  the 
animal  kingdom,  it  must  include  also  the 
similar  processes  of  plant  growth.  And  there 
are  many  good  reasons  for  such  inclusion. 
Biologists  are  agreed  in  regarding  all  plants 
and  animals  as  having  been  evolved  from  the 
same  class  of  primitive  organisms  which  were 
neither  animals  nor  plants,  or  perhaps  rather 
were  both.  Most  plants  have  little  or  no 
power  of  locomotion  or  of  actively  moving 
their  parts.  Yet,  wherever  vegetable  organ- 
isms have  such  powers,  their  movements 
exhibit  the  characteristic  marks  of  behaviour; 
as  in  the  cases  of  the  pollen  tubes  of  many 
species  and  the  locomotions  of  some  free 
swimming  plants.  But,  for  the  most  part,  the 
mode  of  life  of  plants  obviates  the  need  of 
active  movement,  and  their  only  opportunity 
for  the  exhibition  of  behaviour  is  in  their 
processes  of  growth;  and  in  these  processes 
their  marvellous  powers  of  self -direction  excel 
even  those  of  the  animals.  Of  some  plants 
an  almost  microscopic  fragment  taken  from 
any  part  will  reproduce  the  whole  plant  with 
all  its  specific  peculiarities.  And  most  plants 


THE  PROVINCE  OF  PSYCHOLOGY      31 

possess  this  power  of  regeneration  in  a  very 
high  degree.  Cut  away  the  leading  shoot  of 
a  larch  sapling,  and  the  uppermost  branch  will 
slowly  turn  upwards  from  its  horizontal 
position,  until  it  continues  the  line  of  the  stem 
and,  by  rapid  increase  of  diameter  in  its  lower 
part,  restores  the  smoothly  tapering  form  of 
the  stem.  Cut  a  short  length  from  a  willow- 
twig  and  keep  it  in  a  moist  atmosphere;  no 
matter  what  part  of  the  twig  be  taken  or  in 
what  position  it  may  be  kept,  leaf  buds  will 
grow  upwards  from  its  original  upper  end 
and  rootlets  will  grow  downwards  from  the 
original  lower  or  proximal  end.  In  these  and 
numberless  similar  instances,  the  botanist 
can  describe  in  terms  of  physics  and  chemistry 
many  of  the  details  of  the  process  by  which 
the  specific  form  and  organization  is  restored, 
but  the  process  as  a  whole  completely  defies 
his  utmost  efforts  at  mechanical  explanation; 
and  we  cannot  but  recognize  that  it  is  analo- 
gous to  the  purposive  activities  of  men 
and  higher  animals,  which  are  the  type  of 
behaviour. 

Let  us  now  compare  our  conception  of 
psychology  as  the  science  of  behaviour  with 
the  more  usual  definition  of  it  as  the  science 
of  mind.  It  was  pointed  out  on  an  earlier  page 
that  "mind"  is  itself  a  word  whose  meaning 


32  PSYCHOLOGY 

Is  extremely  vague,  one  incapable  of  being 
clearly  defined  except  in  terms  of  some 
questionable  and  speculative  hypothesis.  No 
one  can  point  to  a  mind  and  say — that  is 
what  I  mean  the  word  mind  shall  denote. 
And  if  it  is  proposed  to  define  mind  in  terms 
of  consciousness,  we  are  in  no  better  case,  but 
rather  worse.  For  each  of  us  the  conscious- 
ness of  any  other  organism  than  himself  is  an 
inference;  and  it  is  one  which  is  more 
speculative  and  uncertain  the  greater  the 
unlikeness  of  the  other  organism  to  himself. 
Further,  there  is  abundant  evidence  that  the 
behaviour  of  each  of  us  expresses  activities 
of  a  nature  essentially  similar  to  our  conscious 
activities,  of  which  we  nevertheless  remain 
unconscious.  If,  then,  we  cannot  be  content 
to  define  mind  in  terms  of  consciousness,  the 
only  alternative  is  to  define  it  in  terms  of 
behaviour.  And  nothing  is  to  be  gained  by 
introducing  at  the  outset  of  our  inquiry  the 
vaguely  conceived  entity,  mind,  and  placing 
it  between  the  facts  we  have  to  study  and  our 
reflections  upon  them.  The  conception  of 
behaviour,  on  the  other  hand,  may  be  defined 
in  a  way  which  involves  no  speculative 
inference  or  hypothesis,  namely,  in  the  way 
we  have  attempted  to  define  it  above,  that  is, 
by  pointing  to  facts  open  to  the  direct  obser- 


THE  PROVINCE  OF  PSYCHOLOGY     33 

vation  of  all  men,  and  saying — This  and  this 
is  what  we  mean  by  behaviour.  And  such 
pointing  to  instances  is  the  only  satisfactory, 
and  in  strictness  the  only  legitimate,  way  of 
defining  any  abstract  notion. 

What,  then,  is,  or  should  be,  the  relation  of 
psychology  to  physiology?  Physiology  is 
commonly  defined  as  the  science  of  lif e  or  of 
the  bodily  functions  of  living  things.  But 
what  is  life,  and  what  are  living  things? 
Unless  we  are  to  define  life,  in  a  gratuitously 
speculative  manner,  as  some  imperceptible 
entity  that  enters  into  the  bodies  of  living 
things,  we  must  say  that  it  is  the  sum  of  the 
processes  peculiar  to  living  things.  Now  the 
processes  by  the  observation  of  which  we 
recognize  things  as  living  are  just  those  proc- 
esses which  we  have  collectively  designated 
as  behaviour,  processes  which  exhibit  a 
persistent  self -direction  towards  specific  ends 
that  subserve  the  perpetuation  of  the  indi- 
vidual organism  or  of  the  species.  The  prov- 
ince of  psychology  is,  then,  according  to 
our  definition,  co-extensive  with  the  province 
of  physiology.  And  this  may  be  raised  as  an 
objection  to  our  definition  of  psychology;  for 
physiology  is  generally  regarded  as  an  in- 
dependent science  having  its  own  programme 
and  methods  and  history.  In  modern  times 


34  PSYCHOLOGY 

the  task  of  physiology  has  usually  been  con- 
ceived in  the  way  proposed  by  Descartes, 
namely,  as  the  working  out  of  purely  mechani- 
cal explanations  of  all  the  processes  of  living 
organisms.  To  accept  this  conception  of 
physiology  is  to  base  the  science  upon  a  vast 
assumption,  the  assumption,  namely,  that  all 
the  processes  of  living  organisms  are  capable 
of  being  mechanically  explained.  This  is 
a  gratuitous  assumption  which  finds  no 
justification  in  facts.  For  no  single  organic 
function  has  yet  been  found  explicable  in 
purely  mechanical  terms;  even  such  relatively 
simple  processes  as  the  secretion  of  a  tear  or 
the  exudation  of  a  drop  of  sweat  continue  to 
elude  all  attempts  at  complete  explanation 
in  terms  of  physical  and  chemical  science. 
And  not  only  is  the  assumption  wholly  un- 
justified by  the  demonstration  of  its  truth 
in  any  single  instance,  but  it  leads  those  who 
make  it  to  a  logically  untenable  position. 
For,  when  the  physiologist  has  constructed 
his  imaginary  scheme  of  the  bodily  mecha- 
nism, he  finds  that  he  has  left  over  as  an  irre- 
ducible surd  the  facts  of  human  consciousness. 
And  he  seeks  to  escape  from  the  difficulty  by 
ignoring  these  facts;  that  is  to  say,  he  boldly 
asserts  the  facts  of  consciousness  to  be  in- 
explicable by  his  methods;  he  regards  them 


THE  PROVINCE  OF  PSYCHOLOGY     35 

as  mysterious  by-products  of  the  mechanical 
operations  which  he  believes  to  constitute 
the  life  of  the  organism,  and_  in  which  alone 
he  himself  is  interested;  and  he  hands 
them  over  to  the  psychologist,  to  whom  he 
assigns  the  exclusive  task  of  describing  them. 

To  define  the  provinces  of  physiology  and 
of  psychology  in  this  way  is  just  as  un- 
scientific as  to  define  psychology  as  the  science 
of  the  soul.  In  both  cases  it  is  attempted  to 
mark  out  the  provinces  by  the  aid  of  specu- 
lative hypotheses  or  assumptions  which, 
though  they  may  be  true,  can  only  be 
shown  to  be  so  by  great  advances  of  the 
sciences  in  question.  Nevertheless,  it  remains 
true  that  physiology  and  psychology,  as  pur- 
sued now  and  perhaps  for  a  long  time  to 
come,  are  not  to  be  identified.  We  may 
express  the  relation  which  actually  obtains 
between  them  by  saying  that  physiology 
investigates  the  processes  of  the  parts  or 
organs  of  which  any  organism  is  composed, 
while  psychology  investigates  the  activities 
of  the  organism  as  a  whole,  that  is,  those  in 
which  it  operates  as  a  whole  or  unit. 

In  this  way  we  leave  to  the  wider  knowledge 
of  future  generations  the  decision  of  funda- 
mental questions  to  which  at  present  we  can 
return  only  speculative  guesses,  instead  of 


36  -PSYCHOLOGY 

making  such  guesses  the  foundation  stones 
of  our  science.  For,  in  defining  psychol- 
ogy as  the  science  of  behaviour,  we  neither 
affirm  nor  deny  the  adequacy  of  mechanical 
principles  to  the  explanation  of  the  activities 
of  organisms;  we  assume  no  hypothetical  en- 
tities or  forces,  neither  life,  nor  mind,  nor  soul. 
We  start  simply  from  the  undeniable  fact  that 
the  changes  exhibited  by  material  objects 
seem  to  be  of  two  different  types;  on  the  one 
hand,  of  the  purely  mechanical  type,  of  which 
the  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies  provide 
the  grandest  and  clearest  examples;  on  the 
other  hand,  of  the  type  of  purposive  action 
or  behaviour,  with  which  each  of  us  becomes 
familiar  by  reflection  upon  his  own  efforts, 
his  impulses,  his  desires,  and  his  volitions.  It 
may  be  that,  in  the  distant  future,  science  will 
succeed  in  establishing  the  truth  of  the 
assumption  so  widely  accepted  at  the  present 
time  by  an  act  of  faith,  the  assumption, 
namely,  that  all  seemingly  purposive  action 
is  mechanically  explicable.  If  that  time 
comes,  psychology  will  be  absorbed  in  phys- 
iology, and  physiology  in  physics.  On 
the  other  hand,  it  may  be  that  we  shall  dis- 
cover in  the  inorganic  world  indications  of 
behaviour  which  hitherto  have  remained 
hidden  from  us.  Or  thirdly,  it  may  be  that, 


THE  PROVINCE  OF  PSYCHOLOGY      37 

as  a  great  thinker  has  lately  said,  our  con- 
ceptions both  of  mechanical  process  and  of 
purposive  activity  are  false  abstractions 
inadequate  to  the  description  of  real  happen- 
ings, and  that  both  must  be  supplanted  by 
some  truer  conception.  Or  lastly,  it  may 
prove  possible  to  show  that  the  realm  of  mind 
is  not  co-extensive  with  the  realm  of  life,  and 
that,  within  the  sphere  of  behaviour  or 
seemingly  purposive  activities,  we  must  dis- 
tinguish a  higher  type  which  implies  conscious 
intelligence  essentially  similar  to  our  own  but 
of  many  levels  of  effectiveness,  and  a  lower 
type  which,  though  incapable  of  mechanical 
explanation  and  analogous  to  purposive  ac- 
tivity, yet  involves  no  conscious  direction, 
and  is  therefore  not  truly  purposive. 

But,  whatever  the  decision  the  future  may 
bring,  it  seems  clear  that  at  the  present  time 
we  cannot  transcend  the  distinction  between 
the  two  modes  of  change,  and  that  science  is 
best  served  by  frankly  recognizing  the  dis- 
tinction where  it  forces  itself  upon  us,  and 
by  carefully  establishing  it  where  it  remains 
obscure  and  doubtful.  Physiology,  then, 
may  profitably  continue  to  approach  living 
beings  from  below,  that  is,  from  the  side  and 
with  the  methods  of  physical  and  chemical 
science,  and  to  extend  to  the  utmost  the  reach 


38  PSYCHOLOGY 

of  mechanical  explanations  of  the  processes  of 
their  bodies.  But  psychology  must  continue 
to  deepen  our  understanding  of  the  behaviour 
of  all  living  things  by  approaching  them  from 
above — by  applying  to  them  the  understand- 
ing of  behaviour  that  we  gam  from  the  study 
of  ourselves. 

The  definition  of  psychology  as  the  positive 
science  of  behaviour  seems,  then,  preferable 
to  any  other,  because  it  leaves  unprejudiced 
and  open  for  decision  in  the  future  the  issue  of 
certain  fundamental  problems  which  at  pres- 
ent we  cannot  solve,  and  because  it  makes  use 
of  no  ill-defined  and  problematical  notions, 
such  as  mind,  or  soul,  or  consciousness,  but 
only  of  familiar  facts  of  observation.  And  it 
carries  with  it  also  two  important  advantages. 
First,  it  lays  stress  on  the  truth  that  the  facts 
of  observation  with  which  we  have  to  deal  in 
psychology  are  always  processes  or  activities 
rather  than  fixed  enduring  things.  Secondly, 
it  prepares  us  to  attempt  to  understand  these 
activities  in  a  way  very  different  from  that 
in  which  we  aim  at  understanding  physical 
or  mechanical  processes;  it  makes  clear  from 
the  outset  that  we  must  explain  and  under- 
stand in  terms  of  the  end  or  purpose  of  the 
activity,  rather  than  in  terms  only  of  the 
antecedent  events.  The  adoption  of  this 


THE  STUDY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS       39 

attitude  is  one  of  the  chief  difficulties  of  the 
student  of  psychology,  especially  if  he  has 
been  trained  in  the  physical  sciences.  For 
our  intellect  and  our  language,  the  chief 
instrument  of  our  intellect,  are  adapted 
primarily  and  chiefly  for  enabling  us  to 
appreciate  and  control  the  movements  of 
solid  objects  in  space,  or,  in  other  words,  for 
dealing  with  the  mechanical  processes  of  the 
physical  world;  most  of  us,  therefore,  feel 
intellectually  at  home  in  dealing  with  purely 
mechanical  processes,  and  we  are  more  fully 
satisfied  with  explanations  stated  in  terms  of 
mechanism  than  with  those  given  in  terms 
of  end  and  purpose;  yet  in  both  cases  our  ex- 
planation of  any  concrete  event  can  never  be 
more  than  the  exhibition  of  it  as  a  particular 
instance  of  a  class  of  events  already  familiar 
to  us. 

CHAPTER  H 

THE   STUDY  OF   CONSCIOUSNESS 

WE  see  a  child  sitting  idly  on  a  lawn. 
Suddenly  he  springs  to  his  feet  and  dashes 
into  the  house,  leaving  us  to  wonder  why  he 
behaved  in  that  fashion.  If  we  were  near 
enough  closely  to  observe  his  movements 
and  the  expression  of  his  face,  we  may  be  able 


40  PSYCHOLOGY 

to  guess  the  reason  of  his  behaviour;  but  we 
shall  not  be  sure  that  we  have  the  correct 
explanation,  until  we  can  hear  his  own  ac- 
count of  the  incident.  Then,  perhaps,  he  tells 
us  that  he  went  to  get  a  drink,  or  that  he 
heard  "such  a  funny  noise"  in  the  house, 
that  he  saw  approaching  a  savage  dog  or  some 
person  whom  he  dislikes,  or  that  he  was  stung 
by  a  wasp,  that  he  suddenly  remembered  it 
was  time  for  school,  that  he  heard  his  mother 
calling,  or  that  he  had  just  thought  out  a  plan 
for  making  a  kite.  Any  one  of  these  state- 
ments would  probably  satisfy  our  curiosity; 
and  we  should  feel  that  we  understood  this 
particular  piece  of  behaviour.  For  under 
similar  circumstances  we  have  behaved  in 
similar  fashion,  and  we  have  observed  other 
persons  so  behave.  But  it  is  clear  that  any 
such  explanation  is  only  proximate  and  super- 
ficial, and  that  our  understanding  of  the 
behaviour  is  only  very  partial.  Such  super- 
ficial explanation  and  such  partial  under- 
standing are  all  that  we  can  achieve  without 
bringing  psychology  to  our  aid,  that  is  to  say, 
without  applying  to  this  particular  instance 
the  general  principles  of  behaviour  which 
systematic  study  has  established. 

Note  first  that  the  boy's- explanation  of  his 
behaviour  is  given  in  words  which  partially 


THE  STUDY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS       41 

describe  his  state  of  consciousness  and  which 
enable  us  to  achieve  by  sympathetic  under- 
standing, in  the  light  of  our  own  experience 
of  similar  situations,  a  fuller  description  of 
that  state  than  his  words  actually  convey. 
If  he,  for  example,  mentions  the  drink,  the 
"-funny"  noise,  or  the  savage  dog,  we  know 
that  he  felt  thirst,  or  curiosity,  or  fear.  Such 
reconstruction  hi  imagination  of  the  state  of 
consciousness  of  the  individual  is  always  the 
first  step  towards  that  completer  under- 
standing of  behaviour  of  any  kind  which  will 
enable  us  to  control  or  modify  either  our  own 
behaviour  or  that  of  others. 

And  this  is  true  not  only  of  human  be- 
haviour, but  of  all  behaviour.  If  we  see  a 
mouse  or  other  small  animal  dart  back  into 
its  hole,  we  achieve  a  partial  explanation 
and  understanding  of  its  behaviour,  when 
we  are  able  to  infer  that  it  felt  frightened, 
or  that  it  heard  the  cry  of  its  little  ones. 
Although,  then,  understanding  of  this  kind 
is  more  incomplete  and  problematic  the  more 
unlike  ourselves  is  the  creature  whose  be- 
haviour we  observe,  the  explanation  of  the 
behaviour  of  any  creature  must  always  in- 
volve the  description  of  its  consciousness  at  the 
time.  Now  in  order  to  describe  any  event  or 
process,  we  are  compelled  by  the  nature  of 


42  PSYCHOLOGY 

our  intellect  to  analyse  it  into  parts,  each  of 
which  we  conceive  as  an  example  of  a  class 
which  we  mentally  fix  or  grasp  by  the  use  of  a 
name.  Thus,  even  such  a  simple  process  as 
the  flight  of  a  stone  thrown  from  the  hand  can 
only  be  described  by  analysing  its  path  into  a 
series  of  positions  occupied  by  it  at  succes- 
sive moments  of  time,  and  then  stating  that 
its  flight  consists  in  its  successively  occupy- 
ing these  positions.  And  our  observation  of 
any  event  will  be  more  complete  and  ade- 
quate, the  more  adequate  are  the  notions  of 
its  several  components  that  we  form  by  the 
aid  of  language. 

Now,  when  we  come  to  describe  the  facts 
of  consciousness,  we  find  that  the  notions 
and  the  words  in  popular  use  are  very  in- 
adequate to  the  work  of  analytic  description. 
The  first  task  of  the  student  of  psychology, 
the  presupposition  of  all  other  psychological 
investigation,  is  therefore  to  refine,  by  the 
aid  of  the  terminology  and  the  descriptions 
made  by  his  predecessors,  his  power  of  dis- 
tinguishing, classifying,  and  describing  the 
constituent  features  of  the  stream  of  his  own 
consciousness.  The  observation  or  noticing 
of  his  own  consciousness  is  what  is  called 
introspection.  Introspection  has  been  made 
something  of  a  mystery.  It  is  sometimes 


THE  STUDY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS       43 

written  of  as  though  it  were  a  feat  which  only 
a  specially  trained  acrobat  could  perform. 
There  has  been  much  learned  discussion  as  to 
whether  it  is  possible,  how  it  is  possible,  and 
how  it  is  actually  carried  out.  But,  like 
many  other  things  we  do,  we  can  do  it  very 
well  without  being  able  to  say  exactly  how 
we  do  it.  Every  intelligent  person  can  and 
frequently  does  give  some  description  of  his 
consciousness;  as  when  he  says  that  he  hears 
a  sound,  or  that  he  has  a  toothache,  describ- 
ing perhaps  its  peculiar  quality;  or  when  he 
says  that  he  feels  warm,  or  pleased,  or  tired,  or 
angry,  or  doubtful,  or  confused,  or  sad;  or 
that  he  is  thinking  of  something,  or  longing 
for  it,  or  trying  hard  to  recollect  a  name,  or 
comparing  any  two  things,  or  trying  to  make 
up  his  mind.  All  these  and  a  hundred  other 
current  phrases  we  commonly  use  when  we 
wish  to  make  others  aware  of  the  state  of  our 
consciousness.  And  the  introspection  and 
analytic  description  of  the  psychologist  in- 
volve merely  the  refinement  of  observation 
and  description  of  this  common  kind,  which 
we  all  habitually  practise  in  various  degrees. 
The  acquisition  of  familiarity  with  the  cur- 
rent descriptive  terms  and  with  the  classifi- 
cation of  the  things  denoted  by  these  terms 
must  be  the  student's  first  step  in  taking  up 


44  PSYCHOLOGY 

any  science;  and  it  must  go  hand  in  hand  with 
the  repeated  observation  and  examination  of 
the  things  or  processes  described.  The  use 
of  the  current  terms  (in  so  far  as  they  are  well 
chosen)  enables  us  to  observe  more  fully  and 
accurately;  for  each  name  serves  to  fix  our 
attention  upon  some  particular  feature  or 
phase  of  the  complex  object  of  our  observa- 
tion, and  thus,  by  fixing  our  attention  in  turn 
upon  its  several  principal  features,  helps  us  to 
analyse  the  whole  into  its  constituent  parts. 
And  the  observations  we  make  render  our  un- 
derstanding of  the  terms  fuller,  and  our  use  of 
them  more  accurate.  Thus,  when  on  begin- 
ning the  study  of  botany  the  student  takes  a 
flower  in  his  hand,  he  can  observe  it  and 
describe  it  in  a  rough  way,  distinguishing  its 
most  prominent  features  by  the  aid  of  ill- 
defined  terms  of  popular  speech.  He  then 
learns  to  apply  to  each  of  its  parts  its  scientific 
name,  petal,  sepal,  pistil,  stamen,  and  so 
forth;  and  as  he  repeats  this  double  process 
of  observation  and  naming  on  a  variety  of 
flowers,  his  power  of  observation  and  his 
usage  of  the  scientific  terminology  improve 
hand  in  hand;  and  both  improvements  are 
due  to  the  fact  that  his  thought  of  a  flower, 
which  at  first  was  confused  and  vague,  has 
become  more  definite  and  richer  hi  meaning; 


THE  STUDY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS       45 

he  has  learnt  to  know  the  parts  in  detail,  and 
to  know  the  whole  as  the  sum  of  the  parts 
related  according  to  a  definite  plan. 

The  work  of  the  beginner  in  psychology  is 
of  just  the  same  nature.  He  finds  himself 
able  to  observe  his  mental  processes  and  to 
describe  them  in  a  vague  confused  manner 
by  the  aid  of  common  language;  and  his  first 
step  must  be  to  refine  his  powers  of  obser- 
vation and  description  by  adopting  the  names 
provided  by  his  predecessors  and  the  dis- 
tinctions implied  by  them.  In  doing  this,  he 
will  find  that  his  thought  of  any  mental  proc- 
ess becomes  more  definite  and  richer  in  mean- 
ing; instead  of  thinking  of  it  as  a  confused  in- 
determinate whole,  he  thinks  of  it  as  a  whole 
of  a  particular  kind,  comprising  many  parts 
related  to  one  another  according  to  a  more  or 
less  definite  system. 

But,  though  this  first  step  in  psychology 
is  essentially  similar  to  the  first  step  in  any 
other  concrete  science,  namely,  a  process  of 
improvement  of  one's  acquaintance  with  cer- 
tain objects  by  means  of  analytic  observation 
and  description;  it  must  be  frankly  recognized 
that  this  first  step  in  psychology  is  of  peculiar 
(I'lficulty.  In  studying  a  flower,  or  any 
physical  object  such  as  a  piece  of  rock,  or  an 
engine,  or  even  a  political  system,  the  teacher 


46  PSYCHOLOGY 

may  point  to  and  name  each  part  in  turn, 
saying — There  is  a  petal,  there  a  stamen, 
there  an  anther,  and  so  on.  But  in  studying 
consciousness  this  direct  designation  is  im- 
possible; the  teacher  can  only  describe  the 
conditions  under  which  certain  modes  of 
consciousness  will  in  all  probability  be  ex- 
perienced; he  cannot  point  to  a  feeling  of 
pain  or  of  fear  and  say — That  is  a  pain,  or  a 
fear.  He  can  only  say — Pain  is  what  you 
would  probably  feel  if  your  best  friend  cut 
you  dead;  or — Fear  is  what  you  would  feel  if 
a  savage  dog  suddenly  attacked  you.  But 
men  are  so  widely  different  that  they  react 
to  similar  situations  in  very  different  ways, 
and  one  can  never  be  sure  that  the  situation 
given  or  described  will  evoke  the  same  mental 
reaction  in  any  two  persons.  The  situation 
that  evokes  pain  or  fear  in  one  man  may 
provoke  another  to  anger,  and  leave  a  third 
unmoved. 

Secondly,  analytic  observation  of  mental 
processes  is  difficult  just  because  they  are 
processes  and  not  fixed  enduring  objects. 
We  cannot  examine  at  leisure  and  again  and 
again  the  same  mental  process;  for,  as  we 
try  to  notice  its  peculiar  quality  and  com- 
plexity, it  changes  every  moment,  and  it  can 
never  be  perfectly  recovered  or  restored;  and 


THE  STUDY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS       47 

it  changes,  or  rather  gives  place  to  another 
process,  all  the  more  quickly,  just  because  we 
direct  our  attention  to  it. 

Beside  these  intrinsic  difficulties,  stands  a 
third  great  difficulty  which  arises  from  the 
backward  or  rudimentary  state  of  the  science, 
the  difficulty,  namely,  that  the  greatest  au- 
thorities have  not  yet  learnt  to  use  the  same 
descriptive  terms,  or  to  apply  the  same  terms 
in  exactly  the  same  senses.  It  results  from 
this  lack  of  agreement  among  writers  on 
psychology  that,  even  in  respect  of  this 
preliminary  work,  the  description  of  con- 
sciousness, the  beginner  is  apt  to  become 
greatly  confused  on  turning  from  one  author 
to  another.  It  is  important  that  he  should 
not  attach  undue  importance  to  these  differ- 
ences of  descriptive  method;  he  should  real- 
ize that  each  method  may  be  legitimate  and 
useful.  He  must  recognize  that  any  descrip- 
tion we  can  give  is  necessarily  inadequate  and 
inevitably  distorts  the  facts  in  some  degree; 
and  he  must  aim  at  choosing  for  his  own  use 
the  method  that  seems  to  be  most  effective. 

The  method  of  description  most  commonly 
used  is  what  may  be  called  the  "cinemato- 
graphic" or  "static"  method.  One's  con- 
sciousness is  always  complex  and  always 
changing;  it  is  the  progressive  manifestation 


48  PSYCHOLOGY 

of  an  unceasing  activity,  which  activity  is  only 
partially  revealed  to  us  as  consciousness.  Now 
the  cinematographic  method  of  description 
abstracts  from,  or  neglects,  this  active  aspect 
of  consciousness,  and  attempts  to  describe 
each  phase  of  it  as  it  is  or  subsists,  without 
reference  to  the  functions  subserved  by  it. 

Consciousness  may  be  likened  to  the  surface 
of  a  spring  of  water  which  bubbles  up  un- 
ceasingly from  obscure  invisible  sources.  The 
surface  assumes  at  every  moment  new  forms; 
some  change  rapidly,  others  slowly,  but  none 
persists  stably;  each  detail  of  the  form  of  the 
surface  is  constantly  giving  place  to  new  ones, 
some  slowly,  others  more  rapidly.  The  com- 
plexity and  the  rapidity  of  change  are  so  great 
that  it  is  impossible  for  the  mind  to  seize  all 
the  details  of  any  one  moment,  much  less  to 
observe  just  how  each  detail  changes.  The 
cinematographic  method,  therefore,  begins 
by  giving  names  to  the  principal  varieties  of 
the  forms  that  present  themselves;  it  then 
attempts  to  describe  the  whole  surface  as  it 
exists  at  any  moment,  by  enumerating  the 
forms  presented  by  it  at  that  moment;  and 
it  attempts  to  represent  the  actual  course  of 
the  changes  of  the  whole  surface  by  describing 
in  such  general  terms  its  appearance  at  suc- 
cessive moments.  That  is  to  say,  it  analyses 


THE  STUDY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS       4fr 

the  perpetual  flux  into  a  complex  of  elements 
each  statically  conceived,  and  it  describes  the 
flux  as  consisting  in  the  simultaneous  and 
successive  appearances  of  these  elements.  It 
is  as  though  each  of  the  successive  pictures  of 
a  cinematograph  film  were  first  constructed 
by  painting  in  by  hand  the  various  objects 
in  the  positions  occupied  by  them  at  the  mo- 
ment represented  by  the  picture. 

Now,  besides  abstracting  from  the  active 
or  functional  aspect  of  consciousness,  this 
method  necessarily  falsifies  the  facts  by  neg- 
lecting the  actual  changes  and  by  breaking 
up  the  continuity  of  the  whole  stream  of 
consciousness,  both  the  continuity  of  the  parts 
which  make  up  the  whole  at  any  one  moment 
of  time  and  the  continuity  of  the  whole  at 
successive  moments.  Nevertheless,  owing  to 
the  nature  of  our  intellects,  this  is  the  only 
method  by  aid  of  which  we  can  approximate 
to  a  full  and  detailed  description  of  the  stream 
of  consciousness.  It  is,  therefore,  a  valuable 
and,  perhaps,  indispensable  method.  But 
we  must  beware  of  being  misled  by  it  into 
regarding  the  phases  and  details  which  we 
mentally  fix  by  the  aid  of  names  as  things 
that  endure  or  persist  as  self -identical  entities. 
For  to  do  this  is  the  natural  tendency  of  our 
minds,  to  which  many  writers  have  yielded, 


50  PSYCHOLOGY 

with  the  result  that  they  have  come  to  regard 
consciousness  as  a  mosaic  of  particles  or 
elements  of  consciousness,  juxtaposed  in  ever- 
changing  combinations :  that  is  to  say,  having 
mentally  analysed  the  continuous  flux  of 
consciousness,  by  directing  attention  in  turn 
to  a  number  of  its  most  prominent  features, 
they  think  of  it  as  though  they  had  actually 
broken  it  up  into  a  number  of  separately 
existing  parts,  and  as  though  it  were  capable 
of  being  reconstructed  by  bringing  these  parts 
together  again  in  simultaneous  and  successive 
series. 

If  this  method  of  description  is  to  be  used, 
we  must  have  some  general  name  for  the 
features  that  we  distinguish  within  the  stream 
of  consciousness;  and  perhaps  the  best  word 
for  this  purpose  is  "feeling";  for  this  word 
commits  us  to  no  theory  or  presupposition. 
Adopting  it,  we  may  say  that  the  stream  of 
consciousness,  considered  in  itself  and  apart 
from  its  functions,  may  be  analytically  re- 
solved into  a  complex  of  feelings. 

A  word  which  has  been  more  commonly 
used  for  this  purpose  is  "idea."  But  most 
of  those  who  have  used  this  word  have  yielded 
themselves  up  unresistingly  to  the  tendency 
to  "reify"  these  abstractions,  i.  e.  to  treat 
ideas  as  things  endowed  with  intrinsic  prop- 


THE  STUDY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS       51 

erties  and  forces;  and  the  whole  of  mental 
life  has  been  represented  as  the  interplay  of 
these  things,  the  ideas.  For  these  reasons  it 
is  well  to  avoid  the  use  of  the  word  "idea"; 
though  it  must  be  confessed  that  the  usage  is 
so  very  convenient  and  so  much  in  accord- 
ance with  our  natural  tendency  to  reify,  or 
regard  as  a  thing,  whatever  our  attention  is 
directed  to  by  the  use  of  a  name,  that  we  can 
hardly  hope  to  supersede  it  completely  and 
at  once. 

A  more  modern  fashion  is  to  describe  con- 
sciousness as  a  stream  of  sensations.  Now  the 
use  of  the  word  "  sensation  "  has  the  same  mis- 
leading tendency  as  that  of  the  word  "idea"; 
namely,  it  tempts  us  to  regard  consciousness 
as  made  up  by  the  juxtaposition  of  things 
called  sensations.  Nevertheless  the  notion 
and  the  word  are  so  useful  that  we  can  hardly 
hope  to  describe  consciousness  without  their 
aid;  and  we  must  therefore  accept  that  aid, 
while  guarding  ourselves  carefully  against 
the  abuse  of  it.  If  we  try  to  define  what  we 
mean  by  sensation,  we  must  first  recognize 
that  the  sensations,  or  sensory  elements, 
which,  according  to  the  cinematographic 
method  of  description,  make  up  so  large  a 
part  of  consciousness,  are  of  two  classes,  the 
vivid  and  the  faint.  The  vivid  sensation  can 


52  PSYCHOLOGY 

only  be  defined  as  the  feeling  which  regularly 
follows  upon  the  stimulation  of  a  sense-organ. 
It  is  a  fact  of  common  experience,  which  has 
been  confirmed  and  studied  in  detail  by  scien- 
tific experiment,  that,  whenever  a  physical 
impression  of  a  particular  kind  is  applied  to  a 
particular  sense  organ,  there  follows  immedi- 
ately a  feeling  of  a  particular  quality.  We 
are  capable  of  experiencing  a  large  variety  of 
such  sensations  or  feeling-qualities  determined 
by  stimulation  of  the  senses;  and  each  such 
quality  of  feeling  may  be  experienced  in 
various  degrees  of  intensity,  which  form  a 
continuous  series.  Thus,  whenever  a  tuning- 
fork  of  a  given  pitch  is  sounded  in  my  neigh- 
bourhood, the  air  waves  set  up  by  its  vibra- 
tions impinge  on  my  ear  and  there  stimulate 
the  auditory  nerve,  with  the  result  that  I 
experience  a  sensation  of  tone  of  a  particular 
quality;  and  this  sensation,  or  feeling-qual- 
ity, is  more  or  less  intense  according  to  the 
amplitude  of  the  air  waves  that  impinge  on 
my  ear,  while  its  quality  depends  upon  the 
rate  of  succession  of  the  vibrations. 

The  sensory  feelings  of  the  second  class,  the 
faint  sensations,  or  "sensory  images"  as  they 
are  now  more  commonly  called,  can  only  be 
defined  by  reference  to  the  former  class  of 
vivid  sensations.  If,  when  the  tuning-fork 


THE  STUDY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS       53 

has  ceased  to  vibrate,  I  think  of  its  tone,  I 
experience  again  the  same  quality  of  feeling; 
but,  though  the  feeling  has  the  same  quality 
as  the  vivid  sensation,  it  differs  from  it  in  a 
way  which  we  indicate  by  the  term  "faint." 
The  difference  between  the  vivid  sensation 
and  the  image  or  faint  sensation  of  the  same 
quality  is  not  of  the  same  order  as  that  be- 
tween an  intense  and  a  less  intense  sensation 
of  the  same  quality;  it  is  rather  a  difference 
of  an  altogether  peculiar  or  unique  kind.  I 
experience  many  other  sensation  qualities, 
though  not  all,  in  this  peculiar  faint  form. 
And  the  same  seems  to  be  true  of  all  other 
persons;  though  some  experience  predomi- 
nantly images  of  one  or  more  senses,  and 
others  those  of  other  senses. 

One  influential  school  of  psychologists,  the 
"sensational"  school,  holds  that  the  con- 
sciousness of  any  person  may  be  completely 
described  in  terms  of  such  sensations  and 
images.  But  others  hold  that  we  must 
distinguish  feelings  of  radically  different 
kinds  or  orders;  some  would  recognize  a  class 
of  affective  feelings,  of  which  the  types  are 
pleasure  and  pain;  and,  while  some  admit 
these  as  the  only  two  feeling  qualities  of  this 
order,  others  recognize  a  larger  variety  of 
affective  feelings.  Others  again  recognize  a 


54  PSYCHOLOGY 

third  kind  or  order  of  feeling  qualities,  namely 
the  feelings  of  effort  or  activity;  and  here 
again,  while  some  recognize  only  one  quality 
of  this  order,  others  recognize  a  variety  of 
such  feelings,  each  of  specific  and  irreducible 
quality. 

Now  this  method  of  regarding  and  describ- 
ing consciousness  is  indispensable  for  certain 
purposes,  for  example,  when  we  study  the 
nervous  conditions  of  the  various  qualities 
and  intensities  of  sensation;  but  as  the  result 
of  thoroughgoing  attempts  to  describe  con- 
sciousness exhaustively  in  this  way,  it  is 
becoming  generally  recognized  that  an  ex- 
haustive description  in  such  terms  is  im- 
possible. For  over  and  above  all  the  features 
that  are  capable  of  being  introspectively 
seized  and  described  in  general  terms  as 
sensations  or  other  feelings  of  specific  quali- 
ties, the  consciousness  of  any  moment  in- 
volves something  more  subtle  which  eludes  all 
attempts  to  describe  it  in  this  way.  And  this 
residue,  though  it  is  so  subtle  and  elusive, 
is  nevertheless  the  most  important  part  of 
consciousness.  It  is  the  essential  thought- 
activity;  it  is  the  reference  of  consciousness 
to  an  object;  and  it  can  only  be  defined  or 
described  by  naming  the  object  of  which  the 
subject  is  thinking  at  the  moment.  If  we 


THE  STUDY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS       55 

wish  to  describe  it  statically,  we  can  only  do 
so  by  saying  that  it  is  the  "meaning"  which 
is  present  to  consciousness.  All  the  sensory 
feelings  are  but  the  medium  which  brings  this 
thought-activity  into  play  and  determines  its 
direction  from  moment  to  moment;  they  are 
but  solicitations  to  thought  or  to  thinking. 

We  can  best  realize  the  truth  of  this  state- 
ment by  reflecting  on  such  experiences  as  the 
following.  As  I  lie  in  deep  sleep,  some  one 
knocks  on  the  door  of  my  room  and  repeats 
his  knock  at  short  intervals  of  time,  bringing 
me  at  each  repetition  a  step  nearer  to  the  fully 
waking  state.  On  looking  back  on  this 
experience,  it  seems  that  I  first  heard  the 
sound  in  an  extremely  obscure  and  imperfect 
manner,  which  I  am  tempted  to  describe  by 
saying  that  my  consciousness  consisted  merely 
of  the  sensation  of  sound;  that  on  repetition 
of  the  knock,  I  again  experienced  a  similar 
sensation,  but  that,  in  addition  to  this,  I 
vaguely  apprehended  the  sound  as  such,  as 
something  there;  or,  in  other  words,  the  im- 
pression of  sound  was  no  longer  a  bare  sensa- 
tion, but  evoked  a  vague  meaning,  an  act  of 
knowing  or  cognition;  that  on  further  repeti- 
tion of  the  knock,  the  impression  of  sound 
evoked  a  richer  and  more  definite  meaning, 
the  cognitive  activity  became  fuller  and  more 


56  PSYCHOLOGY 

effective,  and  I  recognized  the  sound  as  a 
knock  upon  the  door. 

Similar  experiences  of  other  senses  may  be 
cited  to  illustrate  the  same  fact.  In  turning 
over  the  pages  of  a  book,  I  may  come  upon 
a  picture  which  at  first  glance  appears  to  me  as 
merely  a  confused  blur  of  colour  patches.  I 
continue  to  look  at  it,  and  presently  I  resolve 
the  patches  of  colour  into  the  parts  of  some 
object  or  scene  of  a  familiar  type.  The  sense- 
impression,  which  at  first  was  nothing  more 
than  a  field  of  colour,  evokes  at  a  later  mo- 
ment a  definite  meaning,  a  thought-activity 
in  the  form  of  a  cognition  of  a  group  of  objects 
in  definite  relations  to  one  another.  In  such 
cases  the  meaning,  which,  as  we  say,  we  read 
into  the  sense-impression,  suddenly  appears 
as  an  enrichment  of  consciousness  over  and 
above  the  mere  subsistence  of  the  field  of 
sensations. 

But  we  need  not  go  to  exceptional  experi- 
ences to  illustrate  the  fact.  At  every  moment 
of  my  waking  life,  my  various  sense-organs  are 
receiving  physical  impressions  from  a  variety 
of  objects;  rays  of  light  from  many  objects 
are  entering  my  eye,  forming  optical  images 
upon  my  retina,  and  stimulating  my  optic 
nerve;  sounds  from  many  sources  are  assailing 
my  ears,  contacts  and  odours  my  skin  and 


THE  STUDY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS       57 

nose.  And  all  these  sense-impressions  affect 
my  consciousness  in  the  way  of  exciting  sensa- 
tions. But  of  all  the  objects  which  are  thus 
exciting  sensations  at  any  moment,  I  am 
clearly  aware  of  perhaps  one  only,  or,  if  I  am 
sunk  hi  reflective  thought,  of  none  of  them. 
When  my  attention  is  given  to  any  one  of 
these  objects,  the  sensations  excited  by  it 
initiate  a  process  of  mental  activity;  they 
evoke  a  meaning,  and  I  apprehend  the  object 
as  such  or  such.  All  the  rest  of  the  sensations 
present  in  consciousness  remain  obscure  and 
meaningless,  or  almost  so;  they  are  said  to 
constitute  the  margin  of  the  field  of  con- 
sciousness, while  the  object  singled  out  for 
attentive  scrutiny  is  said  to  occupy  the  centre 
of  that  field. 

It  is  the  marginal  sensations  which  are  most 
difficult  to  describe  by  any  other  than  the 
cinematograph  method.  No  doubt  they  play 
some  slight  part  in  determining  the  course 
of  mental  activity;  but  their  functional 
relation  to  this  activity  is  so  obscure  that  it 
eludes  us,  and  we  can  only  describe  them  by 
saying  that  they  subsist  as  sensations  making 
up  together  this  margin  of  the  field  of  con- 
sciousness. It  may  be  said  with  some  plausi- 
bility that  all  of  the  sense-impressions  re- 
ceived by  our  organs  solicit  our  attention. 


58  PSYCHOLOGY 

Each  one,  probably,  tends,  and  tends  more 
strongly  the  more  intense  it  is,  to  determine 
the  direction  of  our  mental  activity;  but  if  so, 
then  only  some  few  can  at  any  one  moment 
play  an  effective  part  of  this  sort  and  be  taken 
up  into  the  main  current  of  consciousness. 

The  consciousness  of  any  person  always 
involves,  then,  not  only  a  more  or  less  complex 
mass  of  feelings,  but  also  this  thought-activity 
which  cannot  be  described  by  the  cinemato- 
graph method.  The  proportions  of  the  two 
constituents  of  consciousness  vary  widely; 
during  abstract  thinking,  the  feeling-mass  may 
be  relatively  slight,  consisting  of  little  more 
than  a  train  of  images  of  words  heard  or  seen, 
while  a  rich  stream  of  meanings  passes  through 
consciousness.  On  the  other  hand,  when  the 
mind  is  inactive,  when  it  approaches  the 
condition  of  sleep  or  of  complete  confusion, 
the  thought-activity  is  very  slight,  while  the 
feeling-mass  may  be  large.  Thus,  as  I  lie 
just  awaking  from  deep  dreamless  sleep,  my 
sense-organs  may  be  assailed  by  many  strong 
impressions  which  evoke  a  complex  mass  of 
feelings  of  high  intensity,  but  nevertheless  I 
may  remain  for  some  moments  mentally 
inactive;  the  sounds,  or  sights,  or  smells,  or 
touches,  that  assail  me  have  no  meaning  for 
me,  or  but  a  minimum  of  meaning.  Whether 


THE  STUDY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS       59 

it  is  possible  for  any  one's  thought-activity  to 
be  reduced  to  zero,  while  feeling  still  con- 
tinues, is  a  theoretical  question,  to  which  it 
seems  impossible  to  return  a  definite  answer; 
for,  if  any  one  were  reduced  to  that  state,  he 
would  be  incapable  of  describing  it,  or  of 
remembering  it  on  returning  to  a  more  active 
or  fully  waking  condition.  This  hypothetical 
state  of  mind  has  been  called  one  of  anoetic 
sentience  or  thoughtless  feeling.  With  the 
possible  exception  of  such  states  of  anoetic 
sentience,  to  be  conscious  is  to  be  mentally 
active. 

To  speak,  then,  of  consciousness  and  to 
attempt  to  describe  consciousness  as  some- 
thing that  exists  and  can  be  analysed  into 
constituent  parts  which  severally  exist,  ab- 
stracting from  or  neglecting  the  mental 
activity  or  function,  is  to  distort  the  facts 
very  seriously  and  to  use  a  method  which 
cannot  be  wholly  successful.  This  method  of 
description  is  useful  for  certain  special  pur- 
poses; but,  when  we  set  out  to  gain  insight 
into  mental  process  in  general,  we  shall  do 
better  to  follow  a  method  of  description  which 
does  less  violence  to  the  facts. 

Now,  when  we  regard  consciousness  as  an 
activity,  we  cannot  ignore  the  fundamental 
fact  that  some  one  is  conscious,  the  fact  that 


60  PSYCHOLOGY 

I  am  conscious,  or  that  some  other  organism 
more  or  less  like  myself  is  conscious;  that  is 
to  say,  consciousness  does  not  exist  of  itself, 
but  is  an  activity  of  some  being  which,  in  all 
cases  of  which  we  have  positive  knowledge,  is 
a  material  organism,  but  to  which  we  may 
conveniently  give  the  general  name,  subject. 

A  second  fundamental  fact  is  that  to  be 
conscious  is  to  be  conscious  of  something; 
which  thing  is  properly  called  the  object  of 
my  consciousness.  Being  conscious  is,  then, 
an  activity  of  a  subject  in  relation  to  an 
object;  and  we  shall  do  well  to  choose  as  our 
most  general  term  for  describing  the  facts  a 
verb,  rather  than  a  substantive  such  as  con- 
sciousness. The  best  verb  for  this  purpose  is 
the  verb  to  think  of.  The  word  think  is  used 
by  some  authors  to  refer  only  to  mental 
processes  of  the  higher  or  more  intellectual 
kind;  but  it  may  be  used  with  advantage  in 
this  wider  and  more  general  sense,  in  which  it 
is  equivalent  to  the  clumsy  expression  to  be 
conscious  of. 

Whenever,  then,  there  is  mental  activity, 
some  subject  is  thinking  of  some  object;  the 
object  may  be  a  material  thing,  or  a  physical 
process,  or  a  mental  activity,  or  an  abstract 
quality  or  property,  such  as  virtue,  or  weight, 
or  heat,  or  any  other  object  which  we  can 


THE  STUDY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS       61 

distinguish  or  to  which  we  can  direct  our 
attention  and  discourse.  In  the  typical  act 
of  thinking  we  can  distinguish  three  aspects; 
the  subject  knows  the  object  as  such  or  such, 
he  is  pleasurably  or  painfully  affected  by  it, 
and  he  strives  to  bring  about  some  change  in 
it  or  in  his  relation  to  it.  It  is  generally 
maintained  that  every  mental  act  presents 
these  three  aspects;  or  is  at  once  a  knowing, 
a  being  affected,  and  a  striving;  or,  hi 
technical  terms,  a  cognition,  an  affection  (or 
a  feeling  in  the  narrower  sense  of  this  word) 
and  a  conation.  For  example,  on  looking 
at  a  flower,  I  apprehend  or  cognize  or  know 
it  as  a  flower  of  a  particular  shape  and  colour, 
I  am  pleased  by  it,  and  I  examine  it  more 
closely  in  order  to  know  it  more  fully. 

These  are  not  separable  parts  of  the  think- 
ing process;  nevertheless  we  must  regard  the 
affection  and  the  striving  as  consequential 
upon  the  knowing,  and  the  character  of  the 
striving  as  in  some  degree  determined  by  the 
affection;  but  in  turn  the  striving  reacts  upon 
the  knowing,  maintains  and  furthers  it,  and 
leads  to  modification  of  the  feeling.  And  so 
the  cycle  continues  and  the  thinking  pro- 
gresses towards  its  natural  end,  which  is  the 
satisfaction  brought  by  the  terminal  cogni- 
tion. To  illustrate  again  by  the  case  of  the 


62  PSYCHOLOGY 

flower;  the  initial  apprehension  of  its  colour 
pleases  me  and  stimulates  me  to  examine  it 
more  closely,  with  the  more  or  less  explicit 
purpose  of  discovering  its  botanical  position; 
the  closer  examination,  maintained  and  gov- 
erned by  this  purpose,  enables  me  to  know  it 
more  fully;  and  the  whole  cycle  of  activity 
comes  to  its  natural  end  when  I  have  seized 
the  distinguishing  features  of  the  flower  and 
recognized  it  as  a  variety  of  this  or  that  species 
and  genus.  Mental  activity  or  thinking  thus 
tends  to  progress  in  cycles;  each  cycle  begins 
with  knowing,  which  excites  feeling  and  striv- 
ing; the  striving  results  in  a  new  knowing, 
which  satisfies  the  striving;  and  so  the  cycle 
reaches  its  natural  termination  in  a  feeling  of 
satisfaction.  By  adopting  this  method  of 
describing  mental  process,  we  may  hope  to 
avoid  the  f alsifications  of  the  facts  which  the 
cinematograph  method  tends  so  strongly  to 
produce;  especially  the  abstraction  from  both 
subject  and  object;  the  "reification"  of  the 
steps  of  mental  activity;  and  the  ignoring  of 
the  essentially  purposive  character  of  the 
process.  If  for  certain  purposes  of  detailed 
description  we  make  use  of  that  method,  we 
shall  keep  it  in  complete  subordination  to  the 
truer  method,  remaining  fully  aware  of  the 
distortion  of  the  facts  produced  by  it.  In  this 


THE  STUDY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS       63 

way  we  may  hope  to  combine  the  advan- 
tages and  to  avoid  the  drawbacks  of  both 
methods. 

The  two  methods  and  the  combination  of 
them  may  be  illustrated  by  the  description 
of  an  imperfect  recollection  of  a  particular 
flower  previously  seen  on  a  single  occasion. 
The  description  according  to  the  thorough- 
going cinematograph  method  would  run  as 
follows:  My  idea  of  the  flower  consists  of 
visual  images  which  are  imperfect  repro- 
ductions of  the  sensations  that  composed  my 
precept  of  it.  The  truer  method  would  be  to 
say — I  think  of  the  flower  hi  visual  terms,  but 
I  cannot  faithfully  reproduce  in  memory  the 
colours  of  its  various  parts  as  they  appeared 
to  me  when  I  perceived  it.  The  convenient 
comfined  method  would  be  to  say — I  recollect 
the  flower  in  visual  terms,  but  my  colour- 
images  do  not  faithfully  reproduce  the  colour- 
sensations. 

If  every  mental  process  is  at  once  a  know- 
ing, an  affection,  and  a  striving,  it  must  be 
recognized  that  one  or  other  of  these  aspects  is 
commonly  dominant;  so  that  we  are  led  to 
speak  of  each  kind  of  mental  process  by  the 
name  of  the  dominant  aspect;  thus  we  speak 
of  acts  of  perception,  recognition,  recollection, 
reasoning,  when  we  are  predominantly  cogni- 


64  PSYCHOLOGY 

tive;  of  states  of  emotion,  or  feeling,  when 
affection  is  dominant;  of  volition,  resolution, 
deciding,  desiring,  when  we  are  vividly 
conscious  of  striving  towards  an  end.  It  is 
this  way  of  speaking  which  has  led  to  the 
common  error  of  regarding  these  aspects  of 
all  mental  process  as  separable  functions;  an 
error  of  which  the  commonest  and  most 
serious  form  has  been  to  regard  intellectual 
processes  as  capable  of  being  purely  cognitive 
or  completely  freed  from  the  influence  of  the 
emotions  and  the  will. 

We  pass  on  to  observe  that,  though  the 
devising  of  an  appropriate  method  of  de- 
scribing consciousness  is  an  important  and 
difficult  task  which  has  not  yet  been  com- 
pleted, yet  such  description  is  merely  a  first 
step  in  the  study  of  behaviour.  In  itself  a 
mere  description  of  the  consciousness  of  any 
subject  does  nothing  to  explain  his  behaviour. 
It  is  true  that  in  many  cases  a  man's  behav- 
iour is  in  large  measure  explained  by  even  a 
very  partial  description  of  his  consciousness  at 
the  time;  but  this  is  only  in  virtue  of  our 
knowledge  of  certain  laws  or  rules  of  the  con- 
nexion between  certain  modes  of  conscious- 
ness and  certain  modes  of  behaviour  which 
experience  has  led  us  to  formulate,  however 
roughly  and  vaguely.  Thus,  if  I  call  on  a 


THE  STUDt  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS       65 

friend  and  find  him  walking  rapidly  up  and 
down  his  room,  gesticulating  wildly  and  mut- 
tering incoherently,  I  may  feel  that  his  behav- 
iour is  explained,  in  a  partial  or  proximate 
fashion  at  least,  when  he  tells  me  that  he  is 
filled  with  rage,  or  grief,  or  remorse;  for, 
through  various  experiences  of  my  own  as  well 
as  through  the  observation  of  others,  I  have 
learnt  that  each  of  these  emotions  is  com- 
monly accompanied  by,  or  expresses  itself  in, 
a  peculiar  mode  of  behaviour.  One  task  of 
psychology  is,  then,  to  refine  and  correct  these 
empirical  generalizations  in  which  we  all  for- 
mulate more  or  less  explicitly  the  relations  of 
concomitance  between  modes  of  behaviour 
and  modes  of  consciousness  or  thinking. 

But  my  friend's  statement  that  he  is  filled 
with  anger,  or  grief,  or  remorse,  is  at  best  but 
a  very  partial  explanation  of  his  behaviour; 
before  I  can  feel  that  I  have  an  adequate 
explanation,  I  require  to  know  what  made 
him  angry,  or  grieved,  or  remorseful.  Con- 
sider a  more  complicated  case.  Suppose  I  am 
told  the  bare  fact  that  an  acquaintance  of 
mine  has  shot  and  killed  a  man.  Being  utterly 
at  a  loss  to  understand  this  behaviour,  I  go  to 
him  and  seek  to  find  the  explanation.  In 
doing  this  I  am  forestalling  the  judge  and 
jury;  for  when  the  homicide  is  brought  before 


66  PSYCHOLOGY 

them,  their  business  precisely  is  to  discover 
the  psychological  explanation  of  the  behaviour 
which  resulted  in  homicide;  and,  according 
to  the  nature  of  the  psychological  conclusion 
they  reach,  they  will  bring  in  a  verdict  of 
accidental  homicide,  of  justifiable  homicide, 
of  wilful  and  malicious  murder,  or  of  wilful 
murder  with  extenuating  circumstances,  or  of 
homicide  due  to  insane  delusions,  or  of  homi- 
cide during  a  paroxysmal  mental  derange- 
ment; and  the  treatment  meted  out  to  the 
offender  will  be  determined  by  the  nature  of 
this  purely  psychological  verdict.  I  dwell 
upon  the  legal  aspect  of  our  imaginary  case, 
because  it  will  serve  to  bring  home  to  the 
reader  in  a  forcible  manner  the  fact,  so  con- 
stantly ignored,  that  none  of  us  can  escape 
the  necessity  of  frequently  making  psycho- 
logical judgments,  and  that  our  relations  with 
our  fellows  are  determined  at  every  point  by 
such  judgments.  It  is  true  that  we  attempt 
to  simplify,  or  to  avoid  altogether,  the  exer- 
cise of  psychological  judgment,  by  accepting 
and  applying  a  number  of  moral  maxims  or 
formulae,  such  as — to  kill,  or  to  steal,  or  to  lie, 
is  wrong — to  forgive  injury,  or  to  relieve 
distress,  or  to  repress  anger,  is  right.  But 
only  the  most  thoughtless  of  men  can  be  con- 
tent to  apply  these  maxims  to  the  acts  of  his 


THE  STUDY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS       67 

fellows  without  reference  to  the  motives  or  the 
mental  processes  of  which  their  acts  are  the 
issues.  Now,  as  soon  as  one  inquires  after 
motives  of  behaviour,  one  enters  upon  a  psy- 
chological problem  and  requires  all  the  help 
that  psychology  can  give;  just  as  surely  as  the 
man  who  sets  out  to  build  an  aeroplane  enters 
upon  a  mechanical  problem  and  requires  all 
the  help  that  the  science  of  mechanics  can 
afford. 

To  go  back  now  to  our  acquaintance,  Jon- 
son,  who  has  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  kill  a 
man  Smith.  If  we  learn  that  Jonson  struck 
down  his  victim  in  a  fit  of  fury,  we  know  that 
the  act  was  not  accidental,  but  was  in  some 
sense  purposive:  but,  before  we  can  under- 
stand or  pass  any  moral  judgment  upon  the 
act,  we  must  know  the  conditions  that  excited 
this  violent  emotion.  We  may  learn  that 
Smith  was  a  casual  stranger  who,  in  the  course 
of  an  altercation  with  Jonson,  had  struck  him 
or  used  grossly  insulting  language;  or  that 
Smith  had  perpetrated  a  gross  outrage  upon 
the  dearest  object  of  Jonson's  affections;  or 
that  Smith  had  long  used  a  position  of  advan- 
tage over  Jonson  to  torment  him  and  injure 
him,  in  a  spirit  of  wanton  cruelty;  or  that 
Jonson,  after  repeatedly  failing  in  various 
undertakings,  had  gradually  become  moody 


68  PSYCHOLOGY 

and  suspicious,  frequently  resenting  the  ac- 
tions of  perfectly  innocent  persons  whom  he 
believed  to  be  scheming  to  injure  him;  or 
that  Jonson  had  furiously  assaulted  Smith, 
just  after  recovering  from  an  epileptic  fit,  and 
seems  to  remember  nothing  of  the  incident. 
In  the  last  case  we  recognize  that  the  infor- 
mation enables  us  to  class  the  act  in  the  cate- 
gory of  post-epileptic  paroxysms,  of  which  we 
can  say  little  more  than  that  such  paroxysms 

•  of  fury  have  been  observed  to  follow  upon 
epileptic  attacks,  and  that  they  imply  a  grave 

'  disorder  of  the  constitution  of  the  organism. 
In  each  of  the  other  cases  the  nature  of 
the  train  of  mental  activity  leading  up  to  the 
action  is  indicated  in  a  general  way,  and  the 
action  is  in  so  far  explained.  But  it  is  ren- 
dered intelligible  to  us  only  in  virtue  of  the 
fact  that  we  have  a  general  knowledge  of 
human  nature  and  of  the  way  in  which  it  is 
liable  to  react  to  special  circumstances.  Each 
phase  of  the  mental  processes  and  of  the  be- 
haviour which  led  up  to  the  final  catastrophe 
was  a  reaction  of  human  nature  to  particular 
circumstances.  If  we  have  no  intimate  ac- 
quaintance with  Jonson,  we  can  carry  our 
explanation  no  further:  we  have  to  be  con- 
tent with  recognizing  that  each  particular 
mode  of  reaction  to  the  circumstances  de- 


THE  STUDY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS       69 

scribed  was  such  as  the  constitution  of  men 
in  general  renders  possible.  But,  if  we  are 
intimately  acquainted  with  Jonson,  we  may 
be  able  to  see  that  his  nature  was  such  that, 
under  the  given  circumstances,  the  state  of 
consciousness  and  mode  of  behaviour  evoked 
were  just  such  as  we  might  have  anticipated. 
These  considerations  will  serve  to  bring 
home  to  us  the  truth  of  the  following  proposi- 
tion; namely,  that  psychology,  the  science  of 
behaviour,  cannot  confine  itself  merely  to 
describing  consciousness  as  accurately  and 
exhaustively  as  possible,  nor  to  establishing, 
as  empirical  rules,  the  concurrence  of  certain 
conscious  processes  with  certain  forms  of 
action  or  behaviour;  but  that  it  must  seek 
also  to  explain  both  the  processes  of  conscious- 
ness and  the  associated  modes  of  behaviour 
as  the  issue  of  certain  enduring  conditions 
which  we  speak  of  collectively  as  the  consti- 
tution of  the  mind.  This  constitution  is 
something  that  we  cannot  directly  observe; 
we  can  only  infer  it.  Each  of  us  can  observe 
only  his  own  consciousness  and  the  behaviour 
of  himself  and  of  his  fellow-creatures;  and  he 
can  receive  from  his  fellow-men  reports  of 
their  consciousness.  From  these  data  he  has 
to  construct  by  a  process  of  imaginative  infer- 
ence an  account,  as  serviceable  as  may  be, 


70  PSYCHOLOGY 

of  that  hidden  and  extraordinarily  complex 
thing  which  we  call  human  nature,  or  the  con- 
stitution of  the  human  mind. 

We  are  now  in  a  position  to  make  a  proper 
use  of  the  word  "mind."  We  may  define  the 
mind  of  any  organism  as  the  sum  of  the 
enduring  conditions  of  its  purposive  activi- 
ties. And,  in  order  to  mark  our  recognition  of 
the  fact  that  these  conditions  are  not  a  mere 
aggregation,  but  form  rather  an  organized 
system  of  which  each  part  is  functionally 
related  to  the  rest  in  definite  fashion,  we  may 
usefully  speak  of  the  "structure"  of  the  mind. 
This  structure  of  the  mind  is  something 
which,  although  we  cannot  observe  it,  endures 
throughout  the  life  of  the  individual;  and  all 
mental  and  bodily  activities  are  expressions 
and  revelations  of  its  nature.  From  the  most 
general  observation  of  the  course  of  life  of 
human  beings,  we  can  confidently  infer  that 
the  structure  of  the  mind  develops  gradually 
from  birth  onwards,  increasing  in  complexity 
and  definiteness  of  organization  up  to  a  cer- 
tain period  of  life,  and  then,  if  life  is  prolonged, 
gradually  undergoing  some  regressive  changes. 
We  can  confidently  infer  also  that  the  course 
of  its  development  is  governed  in  two  ways, 
partly  by  an  intrinsic  tendency  to  develop 
along  certain  lines  which  are  determined  by 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND      71 

the  ancestry  or  heredity  of  the  individual; 
partly  by  the  influences  of  the  environ- 
ment, which  promote  in  very  diverse  degrees 
the  actualization  of  the  various  hereditary 
potentialities. 

CHAPTER  III 

THE   STRUCTURE   OF   THE   MIND 

IN  what  terms  shall  we  describe  the  struc- 
ture of  the  mind?  How  are  we  to  conceive 
it?  This  is  a  question  of  fundamental  im- 
portance for  psychology;  but  no  one  answer 
to  it  has  yet  secured  general  acceptance. 

Let  us  glance  at  some  of  the  principal  ways 
in  which  this  problem  has  been  dealt  with. 
An  old-fashioned  method  of  dealing  with  it 
is  to  describe  the  mind  as  consisting  of  a  bun- 
dle of  faculties,  assigning  each  of  the  mental 
functions  that  is  commonly  distinguished  and 
named  to  a  faculty  of  the  same  name;  such  as 
the  faculties  of  perception,  conception,  im- 
agination, judgment,  reason,  will,  and,  related 
to  all  these  in  some  utterly  obscure  fashion, 
the  faculty  of  memory.  This  doctrine  is  one 
of  great  importance;  for  its  great  simplicity 
has  recommended  it  to  the  general  mind,  and 
it  still  forms  the  implicit  basis  of  much  of 
the  current  educational  theory  and  practice. 


72  PSYCHOLOGY 

Our  schoolboys  are  set  to  geometry,  in  order 
to  develop  the  faculty  of  reason;  to  learning 
by  heart  poetry  and  dates  and  irregular  verbs, 
in  order  to  develop  the  faculty  of  memory; 
to  composing  Latin  verses,  in  order  to  develop 
the  faculty  of  taste;  and  so  on,  and  so  on; 
and  though  the  "faculty  psychology"  has 
long  been  regarded  as  out  of  date,  the  wisdom 
of  these  practical  applications  of  it  has  been 
seriously  and  effectively  challenged  in  recent 
years  only. 

Another  way  of  describing  the  structure 
of  the  mind  which  has  enjoyed  a  great  vogue, 
was  devised  in  association  with  the  method 
of  describing  mental  activity  as  a  sequence  of 
ideas.  Every  idea  was  regarded  as  capable 
of  existing  in  two  conditions  or  forms:  on  the 
one  hand,  it  might  be  a  conscious  idea  or  exist 
in  consciousness,  consciousness  being  spoken 
of  as  an  illuminated  chamber  into  which 
ideas  enter  in  turn,  to  be  lit  up  and  active  for 
a  short  period;  and  on  the  other  hand,  it 
might  exist  as  an  unconscious  idea  in  the  mem- 
ory, a  sort  of  Hades  or  dim  underworld  to 
which  each  idea,  or  its  ghost,  returns  after  its 
brief  exposure  to  the  light  of  consciousness; 
there  to  await  and  to  seize  any  opportunity 
of  emerging  again  into  light  and  life.  Within 
this  underworld  ideas  remain  linked  together 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND      73 

in  complex  groupings.  The  whole  assembly 
of  ideas,  thus  linked  in  the  obscurity  of  mem- 
ory, constitutes  the  structure  of  the  mind; 
and  mental  activity  consists  in  each  idea 
dragging  up  after  it  into  the  light  whatever 
ideas  are  linked  or  associated  with  it. 

Another  way  of  conceiving  what  we  have 
called  the  structure  of  the  mind  is  to  identify 
it  with  the  structure  of  the  nervous  system. 
This  method  has  commonly  been  adopted  by 
those  who  accept  literally  the  description  of 
consciousness  as  an  agglomeration  of  sensa- 
tions. Each  sensation  is  regarded  as  attached 
to  some  functional  element  of  the  nervous 
system  or  brain.  These  brain-elements  are 
conceived  as  connected  together  to  form  an 
immensely  complex  machine.  Physical  im- 
pressions, falling  upon  parts  of  this  machine, 
set  free  in  it  currents  of  energy,  which  run 
hither  and  thither  in  a  manner  determined  by 
the  connections  of  the  parts,  and,  finding 
exit  in  the  motor  nerves  that  actuate  the 
muscles,  bring  about  all  the  bodily  movements 
that  make  up  behaviour;  and  certain  of  the 
brain-elements,  when  thus  stirred  up  to  play 
their  parts  as  links  of  the  mechanism,  as 
cogs  of  the  machine,  throw  off  incidentally 
sensations  of  various  qualities;  the  successive 
conjunctions  of  which  constitute  the  stream 


74  PSYCHOLOGY 

of  consciousness.  Some  such  view  as  this ; 
is  very  widely  accepted,  and,  actuated  by  a 
belief  in  its  literal  truth,  thousands  of  busy 
workers,  who  turn  aside  from  psychology  as 
from  a  mystical  study  comparable  to  astrology 
or  alchemy,  are  devoting  their  lives  to  the 
minute  exploration  of  the  structure  of  the 
brain  with  scalpel  and  microscope  and  a 
hundred  ingenious  methods  of  refined  re- 
search, convinced  that  therein  lies  the  secret 
of  human  nature. 

Now  we  have  admitted  already  the  possi- 
bility that  this  view  and  this  method  may 
ultimately  justify  themselves;  but  there  are 
three  good  reasons  why  we  should  not  adopt 
them  in  the  present  state  of  science.  First, 
we  have  no  warrant  for  the  assumption  that 
the  mechanical  processes  of  material  struc- 
tures, however  complex,  can  issue  in  move- 
ments that  have  the  characteristics  of  be- 
haviour. Secondly,  we  have  no  warrant  for 
believing  that  such  processes  can  of  them- 
selves produce  sensations  or  feeling  of  any 
kind,  or  can  be  in  any  sense  identified  with 
the  processes  of  consciousness.  Thirdly,  if 
we  adopted  this  view,  we  should  hamper  our- 
selves by  laying  down  fixed  limits  within 
which  our  thought  must  move,  when  we  set 
out  to  build  up  our  conception  of  the  struc- 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND      75 

lure  of  the  mind.  Of  course,  if  the  view  were 
well  established,  this  restriction  of  the  range 
of  speculation  would  be  purely  advantageous; 
but,  so  long  as  the  whole  problem  remains 
obscure,  we  ought  to  avoid  the  acceptance  of 
such  limits;  for  it  may  well  be  that  this  struc- 
ture is  quite  incapable  of  being  adequately 
described  in  terms  of  the  spatial  distribution 
of  elements  of  any  kind. 

Here  a  word  of  warning  must  be  given 
against  the  tendency,  so  natural  to  most  of 
us,  to  think  of  all  structure  after  the  pattern 
of  material  structures;  that  is,  as  consisting 
in  a  spatial  arrangement  of  connected  parts. 
It  seems  worth  while  to  point  out  that  com- 
mon usage  approves  the  use  of  the  word 
*' structure"  to  describe  systems  which  have 
nothing  of  this  nature.  We  speak  of  the  struc- 
ture of  a  story,  or  of  a  play,  or  of  a  piece  of 
music;  meaning  thereby  that,  when  we  con- 
template the  whole,  we  see  that  it  consists  of 
parts  each  of  which  is  related  to  the  whole 
and  to  all  the  other  parts  in  a  fashion  which 
is  significant  for,  or  contributes  to  determine 
the  characteristic  nature  of,  the  whole.  It 
is  in  this  sense,  of  a  whole  consisting  of 
systematically  related  parts,  that  we  speak 
of  the  structure  of  the  mind.  But  we  must 
not  assume  that  the  structure  of  a  play  or  of 


76  PSYCHOLOGY 

a  sonata  provides  a  perfect  analogy  for  the 
structure  of  the  mind;  although  the  analogy 
may  be  closer  than  that  furnished  by  the 
structure  of  a  steam-engine. 

We  have,  then,  to  build  up  our  notion  of 
the  structure  of  the  mind  by  an  intricate 
process  of  creative  imagination,  inferring  its 
nature  from  our  observation  of  the  operations 
it  achieves,  which  operations  are  only  par- 
tially revealed  to  us  on  introspection  and  in 
the  behaviour  of  living  beings. 

We  have  rejected  as  unsatisfactory  three 
of  the  traditional  methods  of  describing  the 
structure  of  the  mind.  But  in  rejecting 
these,  we  should  endeavour  to  hold  fast  to 
whatever  of  truth  they  have  revealed;  for  it 
is  highly  improbable  that  methods  accepted 
and  used  by  many  able  men  have  proved 
altogether  barren;  and  the  best  way  to  arrive 
at  a  better  method  is  to  try  to  remedy  the 
deficiencies  of  these  traditional  methods  by 
combining  their  meritorious  features. 

Now,  the  most  effective  of  these  older 
methods  was,  undoubtedly,  that  which  de- 
scribed mental  process  as  consisting  in  the 
succession  of  ideas,  and  the  structure  of  the 
mind  as  consisting  in  the  system  of  latent 
ideas.  The  exponents  of  this  method  have 
generally  claimed  for  it  as  a  great  merit 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND      77 

that  it  enables  us  to  dispense  with  the  notion 
of  faculties;  yet  one  of  its  weaknesses  is  in- 
dicated by  the  fact,  that  many  of  those  who 
have  attempted  to  work  by  it  have  combined 
it  in  some  degree  with  the  method  of  faculties. 
They  have  spoken  of  the  mind  as  exercising 
its  faculties  upon  or  about  its  ideas,  as  com- 
paring them,  recalling  them,  combining  or 
distinguishing  them,  holding  fast  or  rejecting 
them,  or  as  otherwise  reacting  or  operating 
upon  them.  This  tendency  results  from  the 
inherent  impossibility  of  describing  mental 
process  by  the  cinematograph  method,  and  of 
ignoring  the  agency  or  activity  of  a  subject. 
We  cannot,  in  fact,  get  rid  of  the  notion  of 
the  subject  by  substituting  for  it  a  collection 
or  system  or  ideas;  the  subject  is,  at  least, 
that  which  has  and  enjoys  the  ideas  and  holds 
them  together  to  form  one  mind.  For,  if 
we  recognize  ideas  at  all,  we  must  also  recog- 
nize that  ideas  considered  as  things  are  not 
scattered  about  the  world  as  loose  and  sepa- 
rate existences,  but  that  they  cohere  in  sys- 
tems, each  of  which  constitutes  a  mind. 

We  have  already  approved  of  the  method 
of  describing  mental  process  which  consists 
in  speaking  of  it  as  the  activity  of  a  subject; 
but,  instead  of  saying  that  the  subject  exer- 
cises these  activities  about  ideas,  we  agreed 


78  PSYCHOLOGY 

to  say  that  the  subject,  or  (as  we  may  now 
say  if  we  prefer  the  mode  of  expression)  the 
mind,  thinks  of  objects  in  these  various  ways. 
Now,  if  we  recognize  a  subject,  we  must  ad- 
mit that  it  has  certain  faculties;  for  a  subject 
devoid  of  capacities  would  be  a  nonentity. 
And  by  a  "faculty"  we  mean  a  capacity 
for  an  ultimate,  irreducible,  or  unanalyzable 
mode  of  thinking  of,  or  of  being  conscious  of, 
objects;  a  capacity  which  we  have  to  accept 
as  a  fact,  and  which  we  cannot  hope  to 
explain  as  a  conjunction  of  more  fundamental 
capacities.  In  this  sense,  knowing,  feeling 
and  striving,  must  be  recognized  as  faculties 
of  the  mind;  and  we  have  to  raise  in  regard 
to  each  one  of  them  the  question — Is  it  a 
single  faculty,  or  is  it  a  class  of  faculties  of 
similar  nature?  It  seems  necessary  to  accept 
the  latter  view.  Striving  seems  to  be  of  two 
ultimate  kinds,  namely,  striving  towards  and 
striving  away  from  the  object,  or  appetition 
and  aversion.  Feeling  or  affection,  again, 
seems  to  be  of  at  least  two  ultimate  kinds, 
namely,  agreeable  and  disagreeable  feeling, 
or  pleasure  and  displeasure.  There  seems 
good  reason  also  to  recognize  feeling  of  ex- 
citement and  feeling  of  depression  as  equally 
ultimate  and  irresolvable,  and,  therefore, 
as  faculties  of  the  subject.  It  is  difficult  to 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND      79 

see  how  we  can  refuse  to  admit  a  larger  vari- 
ety of  faculties  of  feeling.  Our  emotions  are 
infinitely  various;  but  most  of  them  seem 
capable  of  being  analysed  and  exhibited  as  con- 
junctions of  a  small  number  of  primary  emo- 
tions; each  of  these  seems  to  be  a  mode  of 
f eeling  which  is  not  capable  of  further  analysis, 
and  which  is,  therefore,  an  ultimate  mode  of 
being  conscious  that  implies  a  corresponding 
faculty.  But  this  is  a  very  difficult  question; 
and  in  respect  to  it  we  must  keep  open  minds. 
Now  we  have  to  face  the  question — Is 
knowing  the  exercise  of  a  single  faculty, 
or  must  we  recognize  a  variety  of  modes  of 
knowing,  each  being  the  exercise  of  a  distinct 
faculty?  In  attempting  to  answer  this  ques- 
tion, we  must  observe  the  following  principles: 
whatever  in  our  thinking  can  be  described  in 
terms  of  the  object  does  not  imply  a  faculty; 
a  faculty  is  only  implied  by  a  mode  of  think- 
ing of  an  object  which  is  ultimate  and  irredu- 
cible; a  faculty  may  be  exercised  about  objects 
of  every  kind.  It  would  seem  that  we  cannot 
be  content  to  admit  only  one  mode  of  know- 
ing, namely,  simple  apprehension  or  aware- 
ness of  objects.  For  besides  simply  thinking 
or  being  aware  of  objects,  we  affirm  or  deny 
them;  and  these  seem  to  be  ultimate  modes  of 
knowing  or  thinking  (or  two  varieties  of  one 


80  PSYCHOLOGY 

ultimate  mode) :  affirming  and  denying,  then,] 
seem  to  be  rooted  in  a  special  faculty  (or 
faculties),  and  all  processes  of  judgment  and  , 
reasoning  seem  to  be  instances  of  the  exercise 
of  this  faculty. 

It  is  hard  to  deny  that  the  activity  of 
comparing  is  the  exercise  of  a  special  faculty; 
but  it  is  doubtful  whether  we  ought  to  recog- 
nize any  others;  for  every  mode  of  thinking 
other  than  those  already  named,  can  prob- 
ably be  explained  as  the  conjoint  exercise 
of  the  faculties  enumerated  above.  To  rec- 
ognize, for  example,  or  to  remember,  is  to 
think  of  the  same  object  again,  and  to  judge 
or  affirm  it  to  be  the  same  object  that  we 
thought  of  before.  To  perceive  (in  the  strict 
sense)  is  to  think  of  an  object  as  here  at  hand ; 
but  that  which  distinguishes  perceiving  from 
imagining,  or  from  thinking  of  an  object  not 
now  at  hand,  seems  capable  of  being  de- 
scribed as  a  difference  between  the  objects 
in  the  two  cases.  The  same  is  true  of  the  dif- 
ference between  what  is  called  an  abstract 
idea,  or  a  general  idea,  and  a  particular  idea; 
the  first  means  thinking  of  an  abstract  ob- 
ject; the  second  means  thinking  of  a  class  of 
things;  the  third  means  thinking  of  a  partic- 
ular thing.  Again,  it  may  be  asked — Does 
our  thinking  of  space  and  extension  imply  a 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND      81 

faculty  of  spatial  intuition,  as  is  sometimes 
maintained?  To  this  the  answer  seems  to  be 
— Space  and  extension  and  position  are  ob- 
jects, or  attributes  of  objects,  rather  than 
modes  of  thinking.  And  if  the  same  question 
is  asked  as  regards  time  and  duration,  a 
similar  answer  must  be  made.  Duration  is 
an  attribute  of  objects,  not  a  mode  of 
thinking. 

So  much  of  truth,  then,  we  have  to  concede 
to  the  method  or  theory  of  faculties,  and  to 
take  over  from  it.  What  now  of  the  method 
of  ideas?  The  fact  which,  according  to  the 
method  of  ideas,  was  called  the  presence  of 
an  idea  of  a  certain  object  in  consciousness, 
we  prefer  to  describe  by  saying  that  the 
subject  is  thinking  of  the  object.  How,  then, 
are  we  to  describe  the  fact  which,  according 
to  that  method,  was  called  the  presence  of 
the  idea  in  a  latent  state  in  the  storehouse  of 
memory?  Now,  we  are  able  to  infer  from  a 
multitude  of  facts  that  the  capacity  of  any 
subject  to  think  in  any  way  of  any  given 
object  implies  a  corresponding  particular 
development  in  the  structure  of  his  mind. 
Any  man  can  think  of  those  things  only  of 
which  he  has  learned  to  think;  and  this  learn- 
ing to  think  of  an  object  is  a  process  of  grad- 
ual building  up  of  the  capacity  by  successive 


82  PSYCHOLOGY 

efforts  to  think  the  object  more  adequately; 
and  that  which  endures  between  the  suc- 
cessive acts  of  thinking  of  this  object  is  a 
potentiality  of  thinking  of  it  again.  This 
potentiality  is  what  the  method  of  ideas 
describes  as  the  persistence  of  an  idea  in  the 
memory.  Now  this  potentiality  is  not,  like 
the  faculty  of  thinking,  a  potentiality  of 
thinking  in  general,  but  a  potentiality  of 
thinking  of  a  specific  object.  There  is,  then, 
in  the  structure  of  any  mind  something  that 
endures  as  the  ground  of  the  potentiality  of 
thinking  of  each  specific  object  which  can  be 
thought  of  by  that  mind.  For  this  we  need 
a  neutral  non-committal  name.  We  have 
agreed  that  it  should  not  be  called  an  uncon- 
scious or  latent  idea.  Perhaps  the  best  term 
by  which  to  describe  it  is  mental  disposition; 
for  it  is  that  which  disposes  or  enables  the 
mind  to  think  of  or  to  exercise  its  faculties, 
cognitive,  affective,  and  conative,  upon  a 
corresponding  object. 

Each  developed  mind  comprises  a  large 
number  of  such  dispositions,  and  the  de- 
velopment of  a  mind  consists  largely  in  the 
building  up  of  such  dispositions.  We  may  try 
to  imagine  a  completely  undeveloped  mind  as 
consisting  of  faculties  without  dispositions; 
that  would  be  a  mind  with  everything  to 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND      83 

learn.  But  all  minds  of  which  we  have  any 
knowledge  possess  some  dispositions,  and  the 
mind  of  every  normal  human  adult  possesses 
a  vast  number.  The  mind  of  a  man  is,  in 
fact,  a  microcosm  hi  which  the  world,  in  so  far 
as  he  can  be  said  to  know  it,  is  represented 
in  detail,  a  disposition  for  every  kind  of  object 
and  every  kind  of  relation  of  which  he  can 
think.  If,  for  example,  he  can  think  of  a 
horse,  or  a  cube,  or  heat,  or  joy,  or  the 
causal  relation,  it  is  in  virtue  of  the  existence 
in  his  mind  of  a  disposition  corresponding 
to  each  of  these  objects. 

The  many  dispositions  of  any  mind  do  not 
merely  exist  side  by  side;  rather  they  must 
be  conceived  as  functionally  connected  to 
form  a  vast  and  elaborately  organized  sys- 
tem; and  this  system  is  the  structure  of  the 
mind.  The  more  perfectly  organized  the 
mind,  the  more  fully  are  the  objects  which 
compose  the  world  and  the  relations  between 
them  represented  in  the  mind  by  the  dispo- 
sitions and  their  functional  relations.  The 
total  system  formed  by  all  the  cognitive 
dispositions  of  the  mind  constitutes  what  is 
commonly  called  the  knowledge  possessed 
by  that  mind. 

A  principal  task  of  psychology  is,  then, 
to  provide  a  general  description  of  these  dis- 


84  PSYCHOLOGY 

positions  and  their  functional  relations,  and 
to  give  some  general  account  of  their  develop- 
ment and  organization.  On  these  problems 
the  various  departments  of  psychological 
inquiry  seek  to  throw  light  in  their  several 
ways,  of  which  something  will  be  said  in  later 
pages.  Here  some  of  the  general  conclusions 
to  which  they  point  may  be  indicated. 

We  have  to  conceive  the  cognitive  disposi- 
tions as  linked  together  in  minor  systems,  and 
these  minor  systems  as  linked  in  larger  men- 
tal systems,  and  these  again  in  still  larger 
systems;  and  so  on,  by  many  steps  of  super- 
ordination,  until  the  whole  multitude  are 
linked  in  the  one  vast  system. 

The  relation  between  the  dispositions  of 
any  one  system  of  the  lowest  order  must  be 
conceived  not  as  a  direct  connexion,  but 
rather  as  consisting  in  their  common  con- 
nexion with  a  disposition  of  a  higher  order 
corresponding  to  a  more  general  object.  For 
example,  the  dispositions  through  which  I 
think  of  horse  and  dog  respectively  are  con- 
nected with  that  of  a  more  general  object, 
mammal;  and  this  in  turn  is  connected  with 
that  of  the  still  more  general  object,  verte- 
brate; and  this  again  with  that  of  the  still 
more  general  object,  animal. 

The  relation  between  the  more  general 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND      85 

and  the  more  special  disposition  is  such  that 
the  activity  of  the  latter  involves  the  activity 
of  the  former;  so  that,  for  example,  I  cannot 
think  of  a  horse  without  thinking  of  it  also 
as  a  mammal,  as  a  vertebrate,  and  as  an 
animal,  and  as  a  solid  material  object.  That 
I  do  think  of  it  in  this  complex  fashion,  even 
in  the  act  of  casually  perceiving  a  horse,  is 
shown  by  the  fact  that,  if  the  horse  exhibited 
properties  other  than  those  implied  by  these 
general  terms,  if  I  saw  it  fly  up  in  the  air,  or 
swim  under  water,  or  lay  an  egg,  or  felt  it 
offer  no  resistance  to  my  touch,  my  mental 
process  would  be  jarred  and  disordered  and 
I  should  be  thrown  into  a  state  of  confusion 
and  astonishment:  I  should  hesitate  to  re- 
gard the  object  as  a  horse.  In  short,  in 
perceiving  the  object  as  a  horse,  I  bring  into 
play  a  large  store  of  knowledge  acquired  by 
experience,  i.  e.  by  previous  thinking  about 
horses,  and  about  animals  in  general  and 
material  things  in  general.  This  example 
will  serve  to  show  how  very  inadequately  so 
simple  a  process  as  perceiving  a  horse  is 
described  by  saying  that  there  is  evoked  in 
my  consciousness  a  certain  field  of  sensations 
of  particular  qualities  and  spatial  arrange- 
ment. The  sense-impression  merely  initiates 
the  thinking  process.  A  young  child  on  see- 


86  PSYCHOLOGY 

ing  a  horse  for  the  first  time  might  receive 
a  sense-impression  very  similar  to  mine;  but 
his  perceiving  would  be  a  vastly  simpler  proc- 
ess than  mine,  and  the  difference  between 
the  two  is  quite  incapable  of  being  described 
in  terms  of  sensations.  Yet  even  his  per- 
ceiving would  be  much  more  than  the  mere 
reception  of  the  sense-impression;  he  would 
perceive  it  as  a  moving  solid  thing  out  there; 
and,  if  he  had  previous  experience  of  cows, 
he  might  perceive — or,  in  more  technical  lan- 
guage, apperceive — it  as  a  cow,  perhaps  giving 
it  that  name  and  otherwise  behaving  towards 
it  as  he  had  learnt  to  behave  towards  cows. 

If  we  use  the  static  method  of  description, 
we  must  say  that  what  makes  my  perception 
of  the  horse  so  much  fuller  and  so  much  more 
adequate  as  a  guide  to  action  than  the 
child's  perception,  is  not  any  greater  wealth 
of  sensations  or  imagery  in  my  conscious- 
ness, but  a  richer  "meaning"  evoked  by  the 
similar  sense-impression.  This  "meaning'* 
is  the  expression  in  consciousness  of  the 
coming  into  activity  of  a  vast  system  of 
dispositions,  built  up  in  my  mind  through  my 
thinking  since  the  time  I  was  a  young  child. 

This  example  will  serve  also  to  show  how 
inadequately  the  method  of  ideas  describes 
the  facts;  for  my  thinking  of  the  horse  is  not 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND      87 

the  bringing  out  into  the  light  of  conscious- 
ness of  some  entity  that  had  been  lying 
stored  in  some  dark  pigeon-hole  of  the  mind; 
it  was  rather  an  exercise  of  the  faculty  of 
knowing  determined  and  directed  by  the 
activity  of  a  complex  system  of  mental  dis- 
positions. For  note  that,  when  I  perceive, 
or  in  any  way  think  of,  a  dog,  a  large  part  of 
the  same  system  is  active;  for  I  know  it  as 
a  mammal,  a  vertebrate,  an  animal,  a  solid 
object  and  so  forth;  and  it  is  only  in  so  far  as 
I  know  it  as  a  dog-mammal,  rather  than  a 
horse-mammal,  that  the  dispositions  at  work 
are  different. 

Again,  suppose  that  instead  of  perceiving 
merely  a  horse,  or  a  dog,  I  perceive  my  dog, 
Jack.  The  impression  has  for  me  a  still 
richer  meaning;  it  means  all  that  the  impres- 
sion of  any  other  dog  means;  but  I  think  of 
him  not  merely  as  a  representative  of  the 
species  dog,  and  as  all  that  is  implied  by  that, 
but  also  as  the  dog  who  will  come  at  my  call, 
who  will  behave  in  this  or  that  way  under 
various  circumstances:  I  expect  of  him  all 
that  I  expect  of  dogs  in  general,  and  much 
more  besides.  And  my  behaviour  towards 
him  is  quite  special  and  peculiar;  if  a  stranger 
kicks  him,  I  feel  as  bitter  resentment  as  if  he 
had  kicked  me;  if  he  admires  him,  I  am 


88  PSYCHOLOGY 

gratified.  All  which  shows  that  within  my 
mental  system  "dog"  there  has  been  differ- 
entiated a  special  subordinate  system,  which 
is  active  in  addition  to  the  whole  dog-system 
when  I  think  of  my  dog,  Jack. 

The  last  remark  leads  us  to  consider  the 
way  in  which  systems  and  dispositions  develop 
in  the  mind.  No  disposition  is  an  altogether 
new  creation;  every  one  arises  rather  as  a 
specialization  within  some  pre-existing  dispo- 
sition; and  in  this  way,  by  the  specialization 
within  it  of  a  number  of  minor  dispositions, 
a  disposition  becomes  a  system  of  dispositions. 
And,  when  the  constituent  dispositions  of 
such  a  system  in  turn  become  systems 
through  the  differentiation  of  new  dispo- 
sitions within  them,  the  parent  system  be- 
comes as  it  were  a  grandparent,  and  later 
by  further  similar  steps  a  great-grandparent. 
The  mental  system  may,  then,  be  likened  to  a 
family  the  successive  generations  of  which 
continue  to  live  and  work  contemporaneously; 
the  dispositions  are  the  individual  members; 
the  work  of  each  such  member  is  supported 
by  all  members  of  preceding  generations  in 
the  direct  line  of  descent.  Thus  the  disposi- 
tion by  means  of  which  I  think  of  my  dog 
was  differentiated  from  that  of  dog  in  general, 
this  from  that  of  animal  in  general;  and  so  on. 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND      80 

This  is  an  over-simplified  account  of  the 
growth  and  relation  of  mental  systems.  If 
the  process  of  descent,  or  budding,  were  the 
only  way  in  which  systems  develop,  we 
should  be  justified  in  regarding  all  the  dispo- 
sitions of  any  mind  as  the  lineal  descend- 
ants of  some  one  original  disposition;  and 
we  might  find  an  analogy  for  the  structure 
of  the  mind  in  a  tree  with  its  stem,  branches, 
and  twigs,  each  twig  being  supported  by  all 
parts  of  the  tree  of  which  it  is  the  lineal 
descendant  by  budding.  And,  if  the  whole 
process  of  development  occurred  in  the  course 
of  the  life-history  of  a  single  mind,  we  might 
describe  that  mind  in  its  primitive  undevel- 
oped condition  as  consisting  of  a  single  dispo- 
sition, which  would  enable  its  possessor  to 
think  only  of  a  single  most  highly  general 
object.  The  thinking  of  such  a  mind  in  its 
cognitive  aspect  would  be  represented  by  the 
words  "  there  is  something  " ;  the  nature  of  the 
object  remaining  quite  unspecified.  To  de- 
scribe the  growth  of  the  mind  in  this  way 
would  be  far  truer  than  to  describe  it  as  pro- 
ceeding in  the  inverse  way  (as  has  often  been 
done) ;  namely,  as  beginning  with  the  detailed 
apprehension  of  a  number  of  discrete  objects 
as  unrelated  particulars,  and  as  proceeding 
by  the  subsequent  classing  together  of  those 


90  PSYCHOLOGY 

which  are  seen  to  resemble  one  another,  or  by 
the  bringing  together  in  the  mind  of  the  ideas 
of  features  in  which  they  resemble  one  an- 
other, to  form  a  more  general  idea. 

The  young  child  does  not  begin  by  clearly 
distinguishing  this  cat  and  that  dog,  and  does 
not  then  proceed  to  combine  the  like  features 
of  all  cats  in  a  general  idea  and  those  of  all 
dogs  in  another;  and  he  does  not  thereafter 
construct  a  still  more  general  idea  of  four- 
footed  beast  or  animal.  Rather  he  begins 
by  perceiving  all  cats  and  all  dogs  as  moving 
things  which  he  shrinks  from  in  fear  or  strives 
to  hug  in  his  arms;  and  from  such  experiences 
he  learns  to  think  vaguely  of  such  moving 
things  as  different  from  inert  things;  the 
disposition  so  formed  then  becomes  differenti- 
ated, as  he  learns  to  distinguish  cat  from  dog, 
and  to  think  of  other  animals  in  the  same  way, 
as  things  that  move  and  respond  to  his  actions 
as  his  fellow  human  beings  do.  Commonly 
the  child  seems  to  come,  like  most  savages, 
to  think  of  animals  as  beings  like  himself, 
accepting  each  new  variety  he  comes  across 
as  a  member  of  the  same  class  of  beings. 
And  only  gradually  does  he  learn  to  distin- 
guish the  various  kinds  as  unlike  himself 
in  various  degrees.  For  the  developing  mind 
does  not  achieve  of  itself  the  scientific  classi- 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND      91 

fication  of  the  animal  kingdom;  that  is  a 
product  of  the  work  of  many  minds,  which, 
being  embodied  in  language,  can  be  used  to 
direct  the  growth  and  differentiation  of  the 
system  in  each  developing  mind. 

But  this  differentiation  by  acts  of  pro- 
gressive discrimination  is  not  the  only  process 
by  which  the  structure  of  the  mind  develops. 
There  occurs  also  a  process  of  another  kind, 
which  is  of  extreme  importance.  This  is 
the  process  of  perception  of  similarity  between 
objects.  As  regards  the  dispositions  and 
systems  concerned,  it  is  a  process  which  re- 
sults in  the  conjunction  of  previously  separate 
systems  to  form  a  single  system.  In  terms 
of  the  analogy  presented  by  the  structure 
of  a  tree,  we  may  say  that  one  branch  becomes 
joined  with  another,  so  that  their  twigs  be- 
yond the  point  of  junction  are  supported  by 
their  conjoint  strength. 

As  an  example  of  such  a  process,  take  the 
case  of  a  child  who  has  grown  up  without 
learning  to  regard  plants  as  living  beings, 
but,  nevertheless,  has  learnt  to  think  of  them 
as  a  distinct  class  of  things.  Suddenly  it  is 
borne  in  upon  him  that  plants  also,  like  the 
animals,  are  alive;  at  that  moment  two 
systems  become  conjoined  in  his  mind,  and 
thereafter  form  a  single  larger  system;  the 


92  PSYCHOLOGY 

living-being  system  apperceives  the  other,  and 
incorporates  it  with  itself.  In  terms  of  the 
analogy  of  the  successive  generations  of  a 
family,  we  may  say  that  diverging  stocks 
or  lines  of  descent  become  blended  now  and 
again  by  intermarriage. 

As  an  example  of  a  slightly  different  mode 
of  this  process,  we  may  take  the  young  student 
of  physics,  who,  having  learnt  to  think  of 
gases  and  of  liquids  as  very  different  states 
of  matter,  suddenly  becomes  aware  of  those 
points  of  similarity  in  virtue  of  which  they  are 
classed  together  as  fluid  matter.  The  two 
systems  built  up  by  his  observation  of  gases 
and  liquids  respectively,  become  conjoined  in 
a  new  system,  the  possession  of  which  there- 
after enables  the  subject  to  think  of  the 
properties  common  to  liquids  and  gases  in 
abstraction  from,  or  to  the  neglect  of,  the 
properties  in  which  they  differ.  Or  again, 
a  child  is  familiar  with  the  eggs  of  animals 
and  with  the  seeds  of  plants,  but  has  never 
thought  of  their  similarities,  until,  perhaps, 
he  is  led  to  do  so  by  hearing  the  word  egg 
applied  to  the  seed  of  a  plant,  or  the  word 
germ  applied  to  both  eggs  and  seeds;  after 
which  the  word  germ  is  used  by  him  to  mean 
the  properties  common  to  both  classes  of 
objects.  In  such  cases  the  developing  mind 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND      93 

is  guided  by  language  to  effect  the  synthetic 
process  which  some  other  mind  has  previously 
achieved  as  a  process  of  independent  dis- 
covery. The  classical  instance  of  original 
apperception  usually  cited  is  Newton's  dis- 
covery of  the  likeness  between  the  motion  of 
the  moon  and  that  of  falling  bodies,  and  his 
consequent  thinking  of  all  such  processes  as 
examples  of  gravitation. 

The  process  of  apperceptive  synthesis  pro- 
duces a  simplification  of  the  structure  of  the 
mind  and  of  the  language  which  reflects  it, 
by  which  they  are  rendered  more  effective 
instruments  of  thinking.  It  may  be  regarded 
as  a  process  by  which  the  failures  of  the 
process  of  differentiation  are  rectified.  For, 
if  we  imagine  a  mind  developing  from  the 
primitive  condition  we  have  postulated  on 
an  earlier  page  (p.  89)  by  ideally  perfect 
processes  of  successive  discrimination  of 
objects  and  corresponding  differentiation  of 
dispositions,  we  shall  see  that  it  would  not 
require  the  synthetic  fusion  of  systems,  in 
order  to  perfect  its  structure  and  to  become 
a  true  microcosm  accurately  reflecting  the 
whole  world  of  objects  and  their  relations. 
We  may  illustrate  this  point  by  referring 
again  to  the  world  of  life.  We  may  suppose 
that  such  a  mind  would  first  think  of  every 


94  PSYCHOLOGY 

living  thing  it  encountered  simply  as  such, 
without  discriminating  varieties;  it  would 
know  then  simply  as  possessing  the  proper- 
ties common  to  all  living  things;  in  this, 
exercising  the  fundamental  property  of  re- 
acting in  the  same  way  to  things  in  so  far  as 
they  are  alike.  We  may  suppose  that  it 
would  then  discriminate  animals  from  plants; 
and  then  the  great  classes  of  each  kingdom; 
and  so  step  by  step  arrive  at  discrimination 
of  species,  varieties,  and  lastly,  individual 
creatures,  differentiating  in  the  process  the 
corresponding  dispositions. 

Such,  we  may  suppose,  might  be  the  course 
of  development  of  a  pure  and  perfect  intellect, 
if  such  a  being  were  possible.  But  the  actual 
growth  of  our  minds  is  very  different.  Each 
human  mind  takes  up  its  course  of  develop- 
ment from  a  point  already  far  advanced  and 
with  certain  strong  tendencies  to  react  to 
objects,  not  merely  according  to  their  intrinsic 
likenesses  and  differences,  but  according  to  the 
way  in  which  objects  subserve  the  practical 
needs  of  the  organism  hi  which  the  mind  is 
embodied;  and  throughout  its  development 
each  mind  comes  to  know  objects  in  those 
aspects  which  affect  these  practical  needs, 
rather  than  in  those  which,  from  a  purely 
intellectual  point  of  view,  would  appear  to 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND      95 

be  their  essential  and  distinguishing  features. 
Hence  the  need  for  that  process  of  synthesis 
of  systems,  by  which  are  discovered  the 
essential  similarities  of  things  previously 
thought  of  in  complete  separation,  if  we  are 
to  achieve  the  capacity  of  thinking  things 
in  any  other  way  than  that  which  immediately 
subserves  practical  needs. 

In  all  these  processes  of  development  of 
the  human  mind,  the  use  of  language  plays 
a  very  important  part.  In  the  process  of  dif- 
ferentiation of  dispositions  by  discrimination, 
the  name  helps  to  preserve  as  a  system  the 
original  disposition  within  which  differentia- 
tion takes  place.  For  the  hearing  of  a  name 
given  to  an  object  fulfils  the  same  function 
as  the  sense-impression  received  from  it; 
namely,  it  brings  the  corresponding  dispo- 
sition into  activity,  and  thus  enables  us  to 
continue  to  conceive  as  a  whole  the  class 
within  which  we  have  distinguished  kinds  or 
individuals;  whereas,  in  the  absence  of  the 
class-name,  so  soon  as  we  had  learnt  to  react 
differently  to  the  objects  we  discriminate,  we 
should  cease  to  think  of  the  class,  the  original 
object  of  higher  generality,  and  the  original 
disposition  would  decay.  Thus  a  child,  having 
through  contact  with  various  dogs  learnt  to 
think  of  the  object  dog-in-general,  goes  on 


96  PSYCHOLOGY 

to  discriminate  collie  dogs  and  terriers,  the 
two  breeds  most  commonly  represented  in 
his  neighbourhood;  and  we  may  suppose  that 
his  attitude  to  the  two  breeds  is  very  differ- 
ent owing  to  the  friendliness  of  the  collies 
and  the  snappishness  of  the  terriers.  In  these 
circumstances  a  child  deprived  altogether  of 
the  use  of  language  would  sharply  distinguish 
the  two  classes  and  would  tend  to  forget,  that 
is,  to  lose  the  power  of  thinking  of,  dog-in- 
general.  But  a  child  who  has  first  learnt  to 
give  the  name  dog  to  dogs  of  both  breeds,  will 
continue  to  think  of  this  more  general  object 
on  hearing  the  word  dog,  after  discriminating 
collies  and  terriers.  In  a  similar  way  a  child 
brought  up  in  the  Southern  States  of  the 
American  Union  learns  first  to  think  of  man- 
in-general;  but  later  he  learns  to  discriminate 
white  men  and  "niggers";  and  their  differ- 
ences become  so  accentuated  and  their  simi- 
larities so  neglected,  that,  but  for  his  com- 
mand of  the  word  man,  he  would  be  in  danger 
of  forgetting  that  black  men  and  white  men 
are  varieties  of  the  one  species,  Man,  and  of 
losing  the  power  of  thinking  of  the  more  gen- 
eral object,  Man. 

In  relation  to  apperceptive  synthesis  lan- 
guage plays  an  even  more  important  role. 
There  has  been  much  discussion  of  the 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND      97 

question — Is  thinking  possible  without  lan- 
guage? The  question  is  raised,  of  course, 
only  in  respect  of  the  higher  forms  of  think- 
ing, which  involve  the  thinking  of  highly 
general  or  abstract  objects  and  the  judgment 
of  similarities  between  them.  And  it  is  some- 
times said  that  it  is  impossible  to  think  of 
a  general  or  abstract  object,  or,  as  is  more 
commonly  said,  to  form  general  and  abstract 
ideas,  without  the  aid  of  language.  Now 
this  can  hardly  be  true;  for  in  the  mind 
of  him  who  first  discovers  the  similarity  be- 
tween classes  of  objects  previously  thought 
of  separately,  and  who  thus  first  thinks  of 
the  more  general  object,  the  apperceptive 
synthesis  of  systems  must  take  place  without 
the  aid  of  a  name  for  the  more  general  object. 
By  afterwards  giving  the  object  a  name,  he 
fixes  it  for  his  mind,  and  achieves  a  much 
greater  power  of  thinking  of  it  at  will;  and, 
farther,  he  becomes  able  to  communicate  his 
new  way  of  thinking  to  others,  and  to  enable 
them  also  to  think  of  the  more  general  object. 
Names,  then,  are  not  essential  to  the  think- 
ing of  general  objects,  but  they  greatly  fa- 
cilitate such  thinking;  they  serve  as  ready 
means  of  bringing  into  play  the  mental  sys- 
tems corresponding  to  objects.  In  the  case  of 
general  objects,  they  are  much  more  service- 


98  PSYCHOLOGY 

able  for  this  purpose  than  the  sense-impres- 
sion made  by  any  individual  object  of  the 
class;  for  by  such  sense-impression  one  is 
led  to  think  of  the  individual  object  with  its 
specific  peculiarities  rather  than  of  the  general 
object :  and  when  our  aim  is  to  discover  truths 
about  the  class,  the  thinking  of  the  features 
peculiar  to  individuals  does  but  clog  the 
processes  of  reasoning.  And  the  second  great 
function  of  words  is  to  fix  and  render  commu- 
nicable the  results  achieved  by  the  thinking 
of  successive  generations  of  mankind.  The 
language  of  any  community  thus  embodies  in 
objective  form  the  intellectual  progress  made 
by  it;  it  reflects  the  mental  structure  of  the 
individual  minds,  and  enables  and,  indeed, 
compels  each  generation  to  build  up  its  men- 
tal structure  after  the  pattern  set  by  fore- 
going generations. 

Beside  the  two  great  processes  by  which 
there  are  developed  in  the  mind  dispositions 
and  systems  that  enable  it  to  think  of  a  wealth 
of  objects  according  to  their  intrinsic  natures 
and  affinities,  there  goes  on  a  process  of  a 
different  kind,  as  the  result  of  which  objects 
are  thought  of  as  related  to  form  groups  and 
series  according  to  the  accidents  of  time  and 
place  which  have  determined  their  conjunc- 
tion for  the  mind.  That  is  to  say,  in  addition 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND      99 

to  all  that  development  of  mental  structure 
which  partially  mirrors  the  constitution  of 
the  world  of  objects,  the  mind's  structure 
reflects  also  the  history  of  the  world  in  a  very 
partial  manner,  namely,  in  so  far  as  that 
history  has  been  observed,  whether  directly 
or  indirectly,  by  the  mind  in  question. 
Objects  are  thought  of  together  or  in  sequence, 
because  they  are  presented  to  the  observation 
of  the  subject  as  significant  features  of  one 
scene  or  of  one  train  of  incidents;  when  the 
mind  has  once  perceived,  or  otherwise  thought 
of,  particular  objects  as  related  parts  of  one 
whole  scene  or  train  of  events,  it  retains  the 
power  (in  some  degree)  of  thinking  of  them 
again  in  similar  relations.  This  capacity  to 
think  again  of  objects  in  the  historical  rela- 
tions in  which  they  have  been  previously 
thought  of,  implies  the  formation  and  persist- 
ence in  the  mind  of  functional  links  between 
the  corresponding  dispositions.  The  struc- 
ture of  the  developed  mind  comprises  a  vast 
system  of  such  links  between  its  dispositions; 
they  are  generally  spoken  of  as  links  of  asso- 
ciation, and  the  objects  are  said  to  be  associ- 
ated together  for  the  mind.  In  virtue  of  the 
existence  of  such  links  between  dispositions, 
the  thought  of  any  one  object  is  apt  to  lead 
the  mind  to  think  of  another  thus  associated 


100  PSYCHOLOGY 

with  it.  Thus,  if  I  have  on  one  occasion 
seen  a  cat  seated  on  the  back  of  a  pony,  1 
shall  be  apt  to  think  of  that  cat  whenever 
I  again  think  of  that  pony.  The  static 
method  describes  the  fact  by  saying  that  the 
idea  of  the  pony  is  associated  with  the  idea 
of  the  cat,  and  that  the  one  idea,  therefore, 
reproduces  or  tends  to  reproduce  the  other. 

The  formation  of  such  associative  links 
between  dispositions  is  an  important  feature 
in  the  growth  of  the  structure  of  the  mind. 
It  is  obvious  that  the  process  is  very  differ- 
ent from  the  apperceptive  processes  of  dif- 
ferentiation of  dispositions  and  synthesis  of 
systems  which  we  have  discussed  above. 
Whereas  these  result  in  the  capacity  to  think 
objects  not  previously  thought,  the  associa- 
tive process  merely  leads  to  the  thinking  of 
particular  objects  as  standing  to  one  another 
in  some  external  relation,  such  as  spatial  prox- 
imity or  temporal  sequence. 

The  laws  of  such  association  and  associative 
reproduction  have  been  minutely  studied,  and 
much  detailed  knowledge  of  them  has  been 
acquired,  which  we  cannot  discuss  here.  The 
most  important  point  to  note  is  that  the  mind 
does  not  play  a  passive  part  in  the  formation 
of  associations.  Objects  become  associated 
for  the  mind,  not  merely  because  they  are 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND     101 

presented  to  the  senses  simultaneously  or 
in  immediate  succession,  but  when  and  be- 
cause the  mind  perceives  or  otherwise  thinks 
of  them  as  related  with  one  another;  and  it 
does  this  only  in  so  far  as  it  is  interested  in 
them  as  so  related,  that  is  to  say,  in  so  far  as 
they  stir  up  some  conative  tendency.  To  go 
back  to  the  instance  of  the  pony  and  the  cat; 
if,  at  the  moment  my  glance  fell  on  the  two 
animals,  the  cat  had  been  seated  on  the 
ground  at  some  little  distance  from  the  pony, 
I  should  have  noticed  both  animals  only  hi 
the  most  fleeting  fashion,  if  at  all,  and  I 
should  not  have  associated  them  together. 
But  their  spatial  relation  implied  a  friendli- 
ness between  them  which  is  unusual  and 
appeals  to  my  interest  in  the  behaviour  of 
animals;  hence,  out  of  all  the  details  of  the 
scene  presented  to  my  vision,  my  mind  seizes 
upon  these  two  objects  and  their  relation.  It 
may  be  remarked  in  passing  that  this  example 
illustrates  the  impossibility  of  describing  even 
so  simple  a  process  of  association  as  this  in 
terms  of  sensation  and  imagery.  The  mere 
spatial  relation  of  the  two  visual  forms  is  of 
no  interest.  It  is  only  because  they  mean  for 
me  far  more  than  is  actually  presented  to  the 
eye,  that  the  situation  appeals  to  an  interest 
and  draws  my  attention. 


BARBARA. 


102  PSYCHOLOGY 

It  is  in  virtue  of  the  links  of  association  thus 
formed  between  dispositions  that  we  are  able 
to  reconstruct  in  memory  the  scenes  and 
events  we  have  lived  through,  an  activity 
properly  called  reproductive  imagination.  In 
so  far  as  this  process  is  determined  by  the 
links  between  dispositions,  one  tends  to  re- 
think any  series  of  events  in  the  order  in  which 
they  were  first  thought  or  perceived;  the 
recounting  of  an  incident  by  a  person  of 
simple  mental  type,  who  is  merely  talking  for 
the  sake  of  talking,  reveals  sometimes  a 
mental  process  which  is  little  more  than  the 
successive  excitement  of  dispositions  through 
associative  links.  But  all  such  associative 
thinking  is  governed  in  some  degree  by  the 
purpose  or  conation  which  maintains  the 
activity;  and  this  influence  of  the  dominant 
purpose  reveals  itself  in  the  selection  and 
accentuation  of  the  features  or  phases  of  the 
incident  relevant  to  that  purpose,  and  in  the 
neglect  and  suppression  of  those  which  are 
irrelevant.  The  associative  mechanism  thus 
forms  a  quasi-mechanical  part  of  the  struc- 
ture of  the  mind,  and  a  part  which  functions 
in  quasi-mechanical  fashion;  it  furnishes 
material,  as  it  were,  for  the  creative  activity 
of  thought  to  work  upon.  In  all  consecutive 
thinking  it  plays  some  part,  but  its  share  in 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND     103 

the  determination  of  the  course  of  mental 
activity  varies  widely.  It  plays  a  leading 
role  in  a  simple  faithful  recital  of  events 
observed.  In  a  recital  dominated  by  aesthetic 
purpose,  purposive  selection  and  accentua- 
tion greatly  modify  its  operation.  In  one  in 
which  the  narrator,  dominated  by  such  a 
purpose,  permits  himself  to  embellish  the 
story  with  additions  as  well  as  to  select  inci- 
dents, its  r61e  is  still  more  subordinated  to 
creative  activity.  And  in  the  composition  of 
a  fictitious  story,  such  as  a  novel  or  drama, 
this  dominance  of  associative  reproduction  by 
purposive  creative  thinking  is  carried  to  an 
extreme,  though  the  activity  still  involves  the 
co-operation  of  the  two  processes.  Such  com- 
position, in  so  far  as  it  is  truly  creative,  in- 
volves the  apperceptive  processes  by  which 
mental  dispositions  and  systems  are  devel- 
oped; in  so  far  as  it  is  reproductive,  it  in- 
volves merely  a  selective  preference  among 
the  many  alternative  paths  of  association,  a 
preference  determined  by  the  purpose  of  the 
artist. 

We  have  distinguished  two  parts  of  the 
mental  structure  directly  concerned  in  cog- 
nition, namely,  the  part  developed  by  apper- 
ceptive processes  and  consisting  in  the  mental 
dispositions  and  systems  functionally  related 


104  PSYCHOLOGY 

in  a  manner  that  corresponds  to  the  logical 
relations  between  objects;  and,  secondly,  the 
part  developed  by  association  and  consisting 
in  associative  links  between  dispositions  and 
systems,  which  links  reflect  the  historical 
sequence  of  events  rather  than  any  logical 
relations.  It  seems  worth  while  to  illustrate 
this  distinction  in  the  following  way.  Imag- 
ine a  pair  of  twins  whose  mental  constitutions, 
so  far  as  inherited,  are  extremely  alike. 
Imagine  them  to  be  brought  up  in  separate 
places  and  in  separate,  though  extremely 
similar,  social  circles,  and  to  be  subjected  to 
closely  similar  educative  processes.  The  re- 
sult will  be  that  in  respect  to  "logical  struc- 
ture" their  minds  will  be  very  similar,  but  in 
respect  to  "historical  structure"  very  differ- 
ent. When  set  in  similar  situations,  faced 
with  similar  problems  or  tasks,  their  mental 
processes  would  be  very  similar,  and  they 
would,  as  a  rule,  reach  similar  conclusions; 
yet  the  particulars  of  their  thinking  would  be 
constantly  different;  they  would  be  like  two 
men  thinking  the  same  thoughts  in  different 
languages. 

Hitherto  we  have  considered  the  structure 
of  the  mind  only  in  so  far  as  it  conditions  cog- 
nition; but  we  have  seen  that  all  thinking  is 
affective  and  conative  as  well  as  cognitive. 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND     105 

And  knowing  is  but  the  servant  of  feeling  and 
acting;  it  is  the  process  by  which  the  will 
works  towards  its  end  and  the  satisfaction 
which  comes  with  the  attainment  of  the  end; 
and  all  the  complex  development  of  the  con- 
ditions of  the  cognitive  life,  roughly  indicated 
in  the  foregoing  pages,  is  achieved  through 
the  efforts  of  the  will  to  attain  its  ends. 

Regarded  from  the  biological  point  of  view, 
the  function  of  all  mental  process  and  mental 
structure  is  to  preserve  and  promote  the  life 
of  the  race  and  that  of  the  individual  in  so  far 
as  he  subserves  the  life  of  the  race.  The  life 
of  the  race  is  preserved  and  promoted  by 
bodily  activities;  of  these  the  massive  move- 
ments of  the  limbs  and  of  other  motor  organs 
are  of  principal  importance,  and  we  may 
without  serious  error  consider  these  alone. 
All  mental  activity,  then,  normally  issues  in 
bodily  movement;  since  only  by  promoting 
and  guiding  bodily  movement  can  it  fulfil 
its  function.  Conation  is  the  application  of 
mental  energy  to  the  direction  and  mainte- 
nance of  the  bodily  activities  by  which  the 
life  of  the  race  is  furthered,  and  cognition 
governs  bodily  activity  only  through  the 
medium  of  conation. 

The  primitive  cycle  of  purposive  or  mental 
activity  seems  to  be  (as  said  above)  cognition, 


106  PSYCHOLOGY 

evoking  feeling  and  conation,  which  conation, 
issuing  in  bodily  activity,  brings  about  a  new 
cognition  that  in  turn  brings  a  feeling  of  satis- 
faction and  terminates  the  conation.  For 
example,  I  become  aware  that  the  man  stand- 
ing beside  me  has  struck  me;  this  cognition 
evokes  in  me  angry  feeling  and  an  irresist- 
ible impulse  to  return  the  blow.  The  impulse 
immediately  finds  vent  in  action;  and  I  see 
the  object  of  my  thinking  stretched  out  upon 
the  ground.  This  new  cognition  terminates 
the  conation,  and  my  angry  feeling  gives  place 
to  satisfaction.  Or  it  may  be  that  the  new 
cognition,  the  seeing  of  my  fallen  foe,  evokes  a 
feeling  of  pity  and  an  impulse  to  succour  him, 
which  brings  me  to  my  knees  beside  him,  and 
which  only  subsides  and  terminates  in  a  feel- 
ing of  satisfaction,  when  I  see  that  he  has 
suffered  no  serious  hurt.  In  this  case  a  second 
cycle  of  knowing,  feeling,  and  striving,  super- 
venes upon  the  first;  and  in  this  way  the 
recurring  cycle  may  be  indefinitely  prolonged. 
The  behaviour  of  animals  and  of  young 
children  frequently  expresses  such  simple 
cycles  of  perceptual  thinking.  But  the  normal 
adult  mind  is  so  complexly  organized  that  it 
seldom  works  in  this  simple  fashion.  In  the 
situation  suggested  above,  my  cognition  may 
be  complicated  by  knowing  that  the  man  is 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND     107 

drunk  or  otherwise  irresponsible;  or,  in  ac- 
cordance with  a  general  principle  of  conduct,  I 
may  restrain  my  angry  impulse;  or  I  may 
have  learnt  to  replace  the  action  in  which 
the  impulse  naturally  finds  vent  by  some 
dexterous  jiu-jitsu  movement,  which  lays  low 
my  adversary  even  more  effectually.  Or  the 
cycle  of  my  activity  initiated  by  the  blow  may 
be  prolonged  in  the  following  way.  My 
adversary  dodges  or  effectually  parries  my 
blow;  my  thwarted  impulse  then  waxes 
stronger,  and  I  rush  furiously  upon  him.  A 
long  struggle  ensues,  in  which  my  angry 
impulse,  repeatedly  thwarted  and  repeatedly 
stimulated  anew,  brings  into  its  service  the 
whole  energy  of  my  organism;  and  my  efforts 
are  terminated  only  by  the  complete  exhaus- 
tion of  my  available  store  of  energy.  This 
train  of  activity,  which  is  almost  wholly  on 
the  perceptual  plane,  consists  in  the  repeated 
adaptation  of  my  movements  from  moment 
to  moment,  as  I  perceive  the  new  positions 
of  my  adversary;  it  is  a  recurring  cycle  of 
cognition,  conation,  and  feeling,  in  which  the 
conation,  failing  to  attain  satisfaction,  per- 
sists and  is  but  strengthened  by  each  new 
cognition. 

Or  again,  my  angry  impulse  may  be  checked 
by  one  of  fear,  which  prompts  me  to  retreat. 


108  PSYCHOLOGY 

In  this  case,  as  soon  as  I  am  out  of  danger,  I 
may  think  again  of  the  incident;  I  live 
through  it  again  in  imagination,  as  we  say. 
This  restores  the  angry  impulse;  which,  find- 
ing no  satisfaction,  in  turn  keeps  me  thinking 
of  my  adversary:  the  insult  rankles  in  my 
bosom.  Try  how  I  may  to  turn  my  mind 
from  this  painful  topic,  I  find  myself  repeat- 
edly thinking  of  it;  and,  even  when  I  succeed 
in  thinking  of  other  matters,  my  consciousness 
retains  the  disagreeable  and  angry  tone. 
Quite  involuntarily  I  find  myself  plotting  out 
schemes  of  revenge;  and  perhaps,  as  I  lie 
awake  in  the  darkness  of  the  night,  I  gnash 
my  teeth  and  clench  my  fists  and  sweat  and 
grow  now  hot  now  cold.  The  unsatisfied 
angry  impulse  drives  me  on  to  plan  an 
elaborate  scheme  of  revenge.  I  imagine 
myself  meeting  my  adversary  in  a  public 
place  and  striking  him  a  terrible  blow.  But 
then  I  reflect  that  he  is  stronger  than  myself; 
and  fear  returns  and  checks  and  banishes  this 
line  of  thinking,  which  thus,  even  in  imagina- 
tion, fails  to  bring  me  satisfaction.  Then  I 
think  of  myself  lying  in  wait  for  him  on  a  dark 
night  and  striking  him  down  from  behind  with 
club  or  gun;  or  I  concoct  an  elaborate  plan 
by  which  I  can  injure  him  in  his  business  or 
his  social  reputation. 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND     109 

Now,  all  this  mental  activity  involved  in 
thinking  out  these  schemes  of  action  may  be 
not  at  all  volitional  in  the  proper  sense  of  the 
word.  Volition  begins  when  I  attempt  to 
decide  on  executing  one  or  other  plan;  or 
when  I  try  to  banish  the  whole  matter  from 
my  mind,  or  to  pardon  the  offence.  The 
planning  is  a  purposive  activity;  but  it  may 
be  carried  on  wholly  by  the  involuntary  angry 
impulse,  which  persists,  because  it  has  not 
achieved  its  natural  end,  and  because  it  keeps 
bringing  the  incident  back  to  my  conscious- 
ness and  thus  renewing  itself  by  way  of  a 
vicious  circle.  It  may  be  asked — How  can 
such  a  train  of  purely  mental  activity  as  the 
planning  a  line  of  action  be  said  to  conform 
to  the  scheme  we  have  laid  down  as  typical, 
namely,  the  cycle  of  cognition,  conation,  feel- 
ing, and  bodily  activity,  producing  new  cog- 
nition and  again  conation  and  feeling  and 
bodily  activity?  For,  it  may  be  said,  bodily 
activity  is  omitted  from  the  cycle.  The 
answer  is,  that  the  bodily  activity  in  which 
each  cycle  of  the  thinking  process  issues,  is 
only  partially  suppressed  and  disguised.  We 
shall  realize  this,  if  we  reflect  on  the  behaviour 
in  similar  circumstances  of  a  human  being  of  a 
simpler  type,  a  savage  or  a  child.  The  angry 
child,  whose  fear  checks  his  impulse  to  imme- 


110  PSYCHOLOGY 

diate  retaliation,  runs  off  to  a  safe  distance 
and  then  shouts  out:  "I'll  get  a  big  axe  and 
chop  off  your  head,"  perhaps  suiting  his 
actions  to  the  words.  That  is  his  primitive 
planning  of  vengeance.  Now,  whether  or  no 
his  words  are  accompanied  by  other  bodily 
activity,  their  utterance  is  in  itself  a  bodily  ac- 
tivity ;  the  child  is  thinking  or  planning  aloud ; 
and  that  is  the  natural  and  primitive  way  of 
thinking,  in  so  far  as  one's  thinking  finds  no 
other  bodily  expression:  many  savages  and 
children  commonly  think  aloud.  The  sup- 
pression of  the  actual  utterance  of  the  words 
used  in  the  course  of  reflective  thinking  is  a 
habit  which  we  acquire  under  the  influence 
of  custom  and  of  our  natural  tendency  to 
economize  energy;  but,  though  actual  artic- 
ulation may  be  suppressed,  the  use  of  words  in 
the  course  of  our  thinking  remains  the  equiva- 
lent of  bodily  activity;  the  words  play  the 
same  part;  in  each  cycle  of  the  thinking,  the 
conative  impulse  finds  vent  in  a  verbal  formu- 
lation which  initiates  a  new  cycle. 

We  have  now  to  face  the  problem  of  the 
way  in  which  feeling  and  conation  are  deter- 
mined by  the  structure  of  the  mind.  The 
question  may  at  once  be  raised — Does  each 
cognitive  disposition  determine  not  only 
knowing  but  also  feeling  and  striving?  Is  it 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND     111 

at  the  same  time  affective  and  conative,  a3 
well  as  cognitive  in  function?  The  answer  to 
this  question  cannot  be  in  doubt.  The  affec- 
tive and  conative  organization  of  the  mind  is 
largely  independent  of  and  separate  from  its 
cognitive  organization;  and  there  must  exist, 
for  the  determination  of  these  faculties, 
distinct  dispositions  which  form  an  important 
part  of  the  structure  of  the  mind.  Common 
speech  and  thought  recognize  this  fact.  For, 
as  knowledge  is  the  word  used  in  popular 
speech  to  denote  the  structure  of  the  mind  in 
so  far  as  it  is  cognitive,  so  the  word  character 
is  used  to  denote  its  structure  in  so  far  as  it 
is  affective  and  conative.  And  we  all  recog- 
nize that  the  development  of  knowledge  and 
of  character  are  processes  that  by  no  means 
run  strictly  parallel,  but  are  to  a  great  extent 
independent  of  one  another.  We  know  also 
that  our  affective-conative  attitude  towards 
an  object  may  be  radically  transformed,  while 
our  intellectual  grasp  of  it  remains  practically 
unchanged;  as  in  the  case,  for  example,  of 
some  object,  the  thought  of  which  at  one 
time  evoked  enthusiastic  efforts  on  my  part, 
but  which  now  leaves  me  cold  or  stirs  in  me 
but  a  faint  aversion  and  disgust.  A  common- 
place and  trifling  example  of  such  change 
is  the  change  of  affective-conative  attitude 


112  PSYCHOLOGY 

towards  a  beefsteak  which  may  be  produced 
in  a  hungry  man  by  a  full  meal. 

A  much  more  difficult  question  is  that  of 
the  relation  of  the  affective  to  the  conative 
organization  of  the  mind.  It  is  clear  that,  if 
these  are  in  any  sense  distinct  organizations, 
they  are  much  more  intimately  bound  up 
together  than  they  are  connected  with 
the  cognitive  organization.  We  may,  then, 
consider  them  as  identical  without  risk  of 
serious  error,  and  we  shall  not  attempt  to 
distinguish  them  or  treat  of  them  separately 
in  these  pages. 

The  basis  of  character,  or  of  the  affective- 
conative  organization  of  the  mind,  seems  to 
consist  in  dispositions  whose  number,  com- 
pared with  that  of  the  cognitive  dispositions, 
is  small.  Just  as  the  latter  may  be  regarded 
as  so  many  channels  by  which  the  cognitive 
faculties  are  directed  upon  corresponding 
objects;  so  the  conative  dispositions  may  be 
regarded  as  so  many  channels  through  which 
the  conative  faculty  is  directed  to  effect  par- 
ticular modes  of  bodily  activity  in  relation  to 
objects  cognized.  For,  just  as  cognition  is 
fundamentally  a  reaction  of  the  mind  of  the 
subject  upon  impressions  made  by  objects  on 
its  body  (and  only  in  the  most  highly  devel- 
oped minds  attains  relative  independence 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND     113 

of  sense-impressions),  so  conation  is  funda- 
mentally the  direction  of  the  mechanical  proc- 
esses of  the  body  by  the  purposive  activity 
of  mind.  And  just  as  the  various  cognitive 
dispositions  may  in  principle  be  regarded  as 
having  been  differentiated  from  a  single  prim- 
itive disposition,  so  the  conative  dispositions 
of  the  developed  mind  may  be  regarded  as 
having  been  differentiated  from  a  single 
primitive  disposition  through  which  the  cona- 
tive faculty,  the  fundamental  will  to  live, 
found  expression. 

This,  of  course,  is  a  view  of  the  evolution- 
ary history  of  mind  which,  however  plausible 
it  may  be,  is  a  mere  speculation.  But  we  are 
on  the  sure  ground  of  direct  inference  from 
facts  of  behaviour,  when  we  describe  the 
normal  human  mind  as  hereditarily  endowed 
with  a  limited  number  of  conative  disposi- 
tions, each  of  which  directs  the  conative 
energy  to  issue  in  a  specific  or  characteristic 
mode  of  bodily  activity.  In  the  course  of 
individual  development  each  of  these  becomes 
differentiated  into  a  number  of  more  highly 
specialized  dispositions,  through  the  medium 
of  which  conative  energy  issues  in  more 
specialized  modes  of  bodily  activity.  A 
single  illustration  may  suffice.  Every  normal 
woman  seems  to  be  endowed  with  the  ma- 


114  PSYCHOLOGY 

ternal  impulse,  which  issues  or  tends  to  issue 
in  characteristic  modes  of  bodily  activity  in 
relation  to  her  child;  this  implies  the  posses- 
sion of  a  corresponding  conative  disposition. 
Among  the  women  of  each  country,  custom 
determines  that  this  disposition  of  relatively 
low  degree  of  specialization  shall  be  differ- 
entiated to  determine  more  highly  specialized 
bodily  activities,  which  we  call  the  expres- 
sions of  habits;  and  each  individual  may  fur- 
ther specialize  these  habits  in  ways  peculiar  to 
herself.  And  through  any  such  habit,  or 
specialized  differentiation  of  the  maternal 
disposition  which  is  common  to  the  race,  the 
whole  energy  of  the  maternal  impulse  may 
issue. 

We  have  briefly  indicated  the  nature  of  the 
cognitive  and  of  the  conative  structure  of  the 
mind.  It  remains  to  describe  equally  briefly 
the  relations  between  these  two  sides.  These 
relations  seem  to  be  in  the  main  of  the  nature 
of  associative  links,  a  complex  system  of  cross- 
connections  between  the  dispositions  of  the 
two  kinds.  In  order  to  illustrate  the  forma- 
tion of  such  cognitive-conative  associations 
and  their  influence  upon  the  course  of  mental 
life,  we  may  revert  to  the  case  (p.  106)  of 
anger  roused  by  an  insulting  blow  and 
restricted  in  its  expression  by  fear.  Up  to 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND     115 

the  time  of  the  incident,  I  had  been,  we  may 
suppose,  as  nearly  as  possible  indifferent  to 
my  assailant;  that  is  to  say,  his  presence  had 
evoked  in  me  no  well-defined  feeling  or 
attitude.  But  after  the  painful  incident,  I 
cannot  think  of  him  without  fear,  or  anger,  or 
both,  and  without  desiring  both  to  avoid  him 
and  to  get  the  better  of  him  in  some  way. 
Suppose,  now,  that  circumstances  repeatedly 
bring  us  together,  and  that  his  behaviour  on 
such  occasions  is  that  of  a  bully  covertly 
reminding  me  of  the  past  insult  that  I  dare 
not  avenge.  My  attitude  of  blended  anger 
and  fear  is  renewed  on  each  such  occasion, 
and,  being  thus  confirmed  and  rendered  per- 
manent, it  becomes  a  full-blown  sentiment 
of  hatred.  What  development  of  the  struc- 
ture of  my  mind  is  implied  by  the  growth  of 
this  sentiment?  The  emotion  and  impulse  of 
anger  and  the  specific  bodily  expressions  and 
activities  in  which  the  impulse  finds,  or  tends 
to  find,  vent,  imply  the  possession  of  a  com- 
plex conative  disposition.  The  same  is  true 
of  the  emotional  impulse  of  fear  and  its  natural 
expression  in  bodily  activity.  On  the  other 
hand,  my  power  of  recognizing  my  assailant 
and  of  thinking  of  him  in  his  absence  implies 
the  possession  of  a  special  cognitive  disposi- 
tion corresponding  to  that  object.  Further, 


116  PSYCHOLOGY 

the  fact  that,  whereas  I  was  formerly  indiffer- 
ent to  this  object,  now  I  cannot  think  of  him 
without  anger  or  fear  or  a  blending  of  the 
two  emotions  and  attitudes,  this  fact,  which 
we  express  by  saying  that  I  entertain  a  senti- 
ment of  hatred  for  him,  implies  that  these  two 
conative  dispositions  have  become  associa- 
tively  linked  with  the  cognitive  disposition, 
and  that  these  links  have  become  permanent 
features  of  the  structure  of  my  mind. 

The  effect  of  such  linkage  is  not  only  that, 
whenever  the  object  of  the  sentiment  is  forced 
upon  my  attention,  my  thinking  of  him  is 
coloured  or  suffused  with  these  emotions,  but 
also  that  I  am  rendered  peculiarly  apt  to 
think  of  him.  If  I  pass  by  a  crowd  of  which  he 
is  a  member,  my  eye  singles  him  out  and 
watches  him  furtively;  if  we  both  have  occa- 
sion to  attend  the  same  board-meeting,  I  am 
acutely  aware  of  him  and  of  all  he  says  and 
does,  though  I  may  avoid  glancing  at  him; 
if  I  overhear  his  name  mentioned  by  others 
in  conversation,  I  am  all  agog  to  hear  what  is 
said.  And  this  may  continue,  in  spite  of  my 
best  efforts  to  cast  out  this  demon  of  hatred 
and  to  resume  my  former  attitude  of  indiffer- 
ence. Again,  all  my  thinking  of  my  adver- 
sary is  biased  by  my  attitude;  whatever  I 
hear  to  his  discredit  I  accept  and  retain,  and  I 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND     117 

attribute  his  actions  to  the  meanest  motives; 
until,  by  repetition  of  this  process  of  selective 
thinking  under  the  guidance  of  the  specialized 
conative  tendency,  I  come  to  think  of  him  as 
a  monster  of  iniquity. 

Let  us  consider  the  influence  on  the  cogni- 
tive life  of  the  growth  of  a  sentiment,  in  the 
light  of  a  more  agreeable  instance.  Imagine  a 
light-hearted  girl  whose  life  has  been  a  per- 
petual round  of  pleasures  and  social  "duties." 
She  marries  and  becomes  a  mother.  The  child 
upon  her  breast  awakens  in  her  the  hitherto 
dormant  maternal  impulse,  and  all  her  de- 
light is  to  watch  and  tend  it,  to  describe 
its  perfections  and  fondly  to  imagine  its 
future  in  the  brightest  colours.  Like  the  man 
harbouring  the  demon  of  hatred,  she,  too, 
seems  possessed  by  a  strong  spirit;  but,  if  she 
could,  she  would  not  cast  it  out;  for  it  is  the 
source  of  all  her  joy.  Now,  the  maternal  im- 
pulse with  its  accompanying  tender  emotion 
implies  the  existence  of  a  corresponding  cona- 
tive disposition;  and  the  formation  of  the 
sentiment  for  the  child  involves  the  linking 
of  this  with  the  cognitive  disposition  which  is 
the  condition  of  all  her  thinking  of  the  child; 
and  the  new  mode  of  life  is  the  result  of  this 
linkage.  Shortly  after  this  change  in  her  life 
she  is  left  a  widow;  now  her  affections  are 


118  PSYCHOLOGY 

wholly  given  to  her  child,  her  whole  being  is 
devoted  to  it,  and  she  tends  it  with  passionate 
solicitude.  The  desire  to  secure  its  welfare  be- 
comes her  dominant  motive,  to  which  all  her 
thought  and  all  her  doing  are  subordinated. 
Perhaps  she  takes  up  the  study  of  hygiene, 
masters  the  elements  of  physiology  and  the 
principles  of  clothing,  of  feeding,  and  of  train- 
ing in  bodily  habits;  if  she  is  a  very  excep- 
tional woman,  she  may  even  take  up  the  study 
of  psychology.  All  this  intellectual  activity 
and  resultant  expansion  of  her  mental  struc- 
ture is  prompted  and  sustained  by  the  strong 
maternal  impulse  concentrated  upon  its  one 
object.  All  her  new  knowledge  is  built  up 
around  her  child,  which  she  studies  as  assidu- 
ously as  she  tends  it;  in  virtue  of  its  being  the 
exclusive  object  of  the  strong  sentiment  of 
maternal  love,  the  child  becomes  the  nucleus 
about  which  a  whole  system  of  new  knowl- 
edge, new  interests,  and  new  habits,  is  built 
up.  The  purposive  energy  which  sustains  and 
directs  all  these  activities  about  the  child  and 
its  welfare  is  that  of  the  maternal  impulse; 
and  the  constant  direction  of  this  energy  to- 
wards this  particular  object  is  the  result  of  the 
development  of  the  mental  structure  which 
is  the  sentiment  of  love  for  the  child.  For, 
though  mother-love  may  seem  to  spring  up 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND     119 

almost  full-blown,  it  is  in  reality  a  growth, 
subject  to  favourable  and  retarding  influences; 
a  system  of  tendencies  which  strengthens  with 
use,  atrophies  with  disuse,  and  only  gradually 
attains  its  full  strength  and  perfection.  We 
realize  this  more  clearly  if  we  reflect  upon 
other  instances  of  maternal  love;  how,  in  a 
mother  of  several  children,  it  may  be  con- 
centrated wholly  on  one  of  them;  how  in  a 
childless  woman  the  maternal  impulse  may  be 
evoked  by  some  other  object,  a  dog,  or  cat, 
or  bird,  and,  becoming  habitually  directed 
to  that  object,  may  generate  a  sentiment 
strangely  like  maternal  love. 

Now,  in  order  to  bring  home  to  our  minds 
the  full  importance  of  such  cognitive-cona- 
tive  linkage,  let  us  carry  the  history  of  the 
devoted  mother  a  step  further.  After  some 
years  of  devotion,  during  which  the  sentiment 
has  grown  all-powerful  and  has  generated  a 
great  system  of  knowledge,  habits,  and  inter- 
ests, the  mother  loses  her  child.  She  is  pros- 
trated with  sorrow,  and  when  the  first  parox- 
ysm of  grief  is  past,  she  remains  inert;  the 
mainspring  of  all  her  energy  is  stopped  at  its 
source;  the  will  to  live,  which  for  years  has 
poured  itself  freely  through  this  one  system, 
finds  no  adequate  channel  through  which  to 
animate  her  organism;  and  slowly  she  dies, 


120  PSYCHOLOGY 

her  end  probably  hastened  by  the  invasion  of 
phthisis  or  of  some  other  disease,  which  she  no 
longer  has  the  energy  to  resist.  Or,  if  she 
continues  to  live,  her  best  chance  of  restora- 
tion to  a  life  of  activity  and  health  lies  in  the 
finding  of  some  new  object  for  her  maternal 
impulse,  to  which  the  whole  system  of  her 
master-sentiment  may,  with  some  readjust- 
ment, direct  its  activities,  thus  opening  once 
more  the  choked  channels  by  which  alone  the 
vital  energy  can  adequately  suffuse  her  whole 
being.  She  may  turn  to  work  on  behalf  of 
children  in  general,  and  find  happiness  in 
managing  a  children's  hospital  or  in  other 
good  works;  in  which  case  the  energy  of  the 
maternal  impulse,  being  diverted  or  redirected, 
is  said  in  technical  language  to  be  sublimated. 
In  the  foregoing  paragraphs  we  have 
illustrated  the  nature  and  growth  of  the 
functional  connexions  between  cognitive  and 
conative  dispositions,  taking  strong  and  com- 
plex sentiments  as  our  instances.  The  struc- 
ture of  the  normal  adult  mind  comprises  many 
such  sentiments  of  all  degrees  of  strength  and 
complexity,  from  what  is  called  a  passing 
fancy  or  aversion  to  strong,  enduring,  and 
highly  complex  sentiments  of  love  and  hate. 
In  the  structural  basis  of  a  complex  sentiment 
a  number  of  conative  dispositions  may  be 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MIND    121 

comprised.  But  the  linkage  of  a  conative  dis- 
position with  any  one  cognitive  system  does 
not  preclude  it  from  becoming  linked  with 
others;  it  may  thus  enter  into  the  composi- 
tion of  sentiments  for  an  indefinite  number  of 
diverse  objects.  Thus  each  principal  conative 
disposition  must  be  regarded  as  linked  with  a 
considerable  number  of  cognitive  systems, 
by  each  of  which  it  may  be  brought  into  activ- 
ity, and  through  each  of  which  in  turn  it  pours 
its  conative  energy,  thus  maintaining  its 
activities  and  promoting  its  further  growth 
and  differentiation. 

It  must  be  pointed  out  in  passing  that  not 
only  persons  and  places  and  material  things 
may  become  the  objects  of  sentiments,  but 
also  highly  abstract  and  general  objects,  such 
as  moral  qualities,  power,  wealth,  art.  Of 
some  men  it  is  no  mere  figure  of  speech  to  say 
that  they  love  virtue  or  power  or  the  Church, 
that  they  hate  vice  or  dirt  or  disorder.  In 
respect  of  their  growth  and  constitution,  such 
sentiments  seem  to  be  subject  to  essentially 
the  same  principles  as  those  directed  to  more 
concrete  objects.  They  constitute  a  most 
important  part  of  the  structure  of  the  mind, 
since  on  them  depends  all  that  part  of  be- 
haviour which  we  call  moral  conduct. 


PSYCHOLOGY 
CHAPTER  IV 


HITHERTO  we  have  discussed  only  one  of 
the  methods  of  psychological  study,  namely, 
the  indispensable  preliminary  description  of 
consciousness  or  modes  of  thinking,  by  aid  of 
introspection.  Further,  we  have  defined  the 
central  task  of  psychology  as  the  description 
in  general  terms  of  the  structure  of  the  normal 
human  mind,  and  of  its  modes  of  operation 
and  development;  and  we  have  indicated 
very  roughly  the  kind  of  answers  to  these 
questions  towards  which  the  science  seems  to 
be  working  its  way. 

Now,  there  are  many  departments  of  psy- 
chology, distinguished  either  by  the  methods 
of  inquiry  pursued,  or  by  the  type  or  class  of 
beings  whose  behaviour  is  studied  by  the 
psychologist.  The  former  mode  of  division 
tends  to  assert  itself  in  practice,  because 
certain  workers  acquire  special  skill  in  the 
application  of  one  or  other  method.  But  the 
division  of  the  whole  province  of  psychology 
on  this  principle  is  to  be  deprecated;  and  the 
second  principle  is  preferable. 

Of  the  departments  to  be  recognized  as 


METHODS  AND  DEPARTMENTS     123 

marked  off  according  to  the  latter  of  these 
principles  of  division,  the  following  are  the 
chief: — 

(1)  The  psychology  of  the  normal  human 
adult;  (2)  the  psychology  of  animals;  (3)  the 
psychology  of  children;  (4)  individual  psy- 
chology, which  attempts  to  define,  and  as  far 
as  possible  to  account  for,  the  peculiarities  of 
individual  minds;  (5)  the  psychology  of  men 
in  abnormal  and  diseased  states  of  mind;  (6) 
social  psychology,  the  study  of  the  mass-mind 
and  of  its  influence  upon  the  individual  mind 
in  both  its  development  and  operation. 

In  each  of  these  great  departments  all  the 
available  methods  of  study  are  applied. 
These  methods  fall  under  three  principal 
heads: — (1)  Introspection;  under  this  head 
is  included  not  only  the  introspective  observa- 
tion of  the  psychologist,  but  also  the  study  of 
the  introspective  statements  or  descriptions 
of  other  persons.  This  method  is,  of  course, 
not  available  in  the  study  of  animals;  but  in 
all  the  other  departments  it  is  applicable  to 
various  extents.  (2)  The  observation  and 
interpretation  of  behaviour,  that  is,  of  the 
purposive  bodily  activities  in  which  the  men- 
tal processes  of  men  and  animals  find  expres- 
sion. (3)  The  study  of  the  things  created  by 
mental  and  bodily  activity,  from  the  point  of 


124  PSYCHOLOGY 

view  of  discovering  what  light  they  throw  on 
the  nature  and  operations  of  the  minds  which 
fashioned  them;  thus,  the  nest  of  a  bird,  the 
web  of  a  spider,  a  savage  dance,  a  language, 
a  code  of  laws  or  morals,  a  system  of  religious 
belief,  a  Gothic  cathedral,  a  poem,  a  song, 
a  child's  drawing,  the  verses  of  a  maniac,  a 
game  of  skill  or  of  chance,  a  trade-union,  a 
system  of  government,  all  these,  as  well  as 
every  other  product  of  human  or  animal 
activity,  are  capable  of  being  studied  from 
the  psychological  point  of  view,  with  more  or 
less  of  profit. 

It  goes  without  saying  that,  wherever 
possible,  these  three  great  methods  of  study 
should  be  combined.  Such  combination  is 
seldom  possible,  except  in  studying  activ- 
ities designedly  induced  under  circumstances 
specially  arranged  and  controlled.  To  study 
human  or  animal  behaviour  in  this  way  is  to 
make  a  psychological  experiment.  Much  has 
been  heard  in  late  years  of  "experimental  psy- 
chology," and  it  is  often  spoken  of  as  though 
it  were  a  distinct  department  of  study.  But 
that  is  by  no  means  the  case.  Experiments 
may  be,  and  are,  made  in  every  field  of  the 
province  of  psychology.  Many  persons  find 
it  difficult  to  imagine  how  experiment  can 
be  applied  in  psychological  investigation;  the 


METHODS  AND  DEPARTMENTS    125 

difficulty  may  be  overcome  by  considering  a 
few  examples.  I  ask  a  friend  to  divide  a 
straight  line  into  two  unequal  parts  in  the 
way  that  seems  to  him  to  give  the  most 
pleasing  or  satisfying  effect.  The  experiment 
may  be  made  to  combine  the  three  great 
methods.  I  observe  the  behaviour  of  my 
subject  as  he  takes  his  pencil  and  divides  the 
line;  I  measure  the  two  parts  into  which  he 
divides  it;  and  I  ask  him  to  describe  as  fully 
as  possible  how  he  came  to  choose  just  that 
point.  Now,  I  can  hardly  hope  to  draw  any 
valid  and  interesting  conclusion  from  a  single 
experiment  of  this  sort.  But  suppose  that  I 
repeat  it  with  fifty  persons,  and  that  I  find 
a  striking  uniformity  in  the  products  of  their 
activity,  namely,  that  the  great  majority 
divide  the  line  in  such  a  way  that  the  length 
of  the  shorter  is  to  that  of  the  longer  part 
very  nearly  as  1:1*6.  Knowing  that,  if  the 
shorter  is  to  the  longer  as  1:1*618,  then  the 
longer  bears  the  same  ratio  to  the  sum  of  the 
two  lengths,  and  noticing  that  the  average 
of  all  the  proportions  chosen  by  the  fifty 
subjects  approximates  very  closely  to  this 
ratio,  I  repeat  the  experiment  with  more 
subjects.  Suppose,  then,  I  find  that  the 
larger  the  number  of  subjects  whose  results 
are  averaged,  the  closer  this  approximation 


126  PSYCHOLOGY 

becomes.  Here,  surely,  would  be  an  indica- 
tion of  an  experimentally  established  law  of 
human  behaviour  of  considerable  interest, 
well  fitted  to  stimulate  any  alert  mind  to  seek 
for  an  explanation.  The  result  would  make  it 
seem  worth  while  to  study  closely  both  the 
behaviour  and  the  introspective  reports  of  the 
subjects,  as  well  as  the  products  of  their 
activity.  It  may  be  added  that  an  indication 
of  this  law  may  be  obtained  by  the  application 
of  the  third  method  alone,  namely,  by  study- 
ing the  proportions  of  objects  in  common  use 
and  of  the  parts  of  decorative  designs.  But 
it  is  obvious  that,  for  the  accurate  establish- 
ment and  investigation  of  this  general  ten- 
dency, experiment  affords  indispensable  aid. 

As  another  example  of  experiment  we  may 
take  the  following: — I  try  to  write  down 
continuously  a  familiar  verse,  while  I  repeat 
aloud  other  equally  familiar  verses,  and  I  ask 
other  persons  to  attempt  the  same  task. 
Here  again  all  three  methods  of  study  are 
applicable  and  instructive,  namely,  intro- 
spection, the  observation  of  behaviour,  and 
the  study  of  the  product;  observations  of 
these  three  kinds  supplement  one  another  and 
throw  considerable  light  on  the  question  of  the 
possibility  of  thinking  of  two  things  at  once. 

But  the  most  profitable  experiments  are 


METHODS  AND  DEPARTMENTS      127 

generally  those  which  are  designed  to  provide 
an  answer  to  some  definite  question.  For 
example,  it  may  be  asked — In  learning  a 
passage  of  prose  or  verse  by  heart,  can  I  learn 
it  with  fewest  repetitions  by  reading  it  again 
and  again  without  intermission?  Or  shall  I 
do  better  by  allowing  an  interval  to  elapse 
after  each  reading;  or  by  grouping  my  read- 
ings in  short  series  separated  by  intervals  of 
time?  And,  if  the^second  or  third  distribution 
of  the  readings  is  most  advantageous,  what 
interval  is  most  favourable?  For  clearly  there 
must  be  such  a  most  favourable  interval. 

It  has  been  found  that  questions  such  as 
these  can  readily  be  answered  by  a  little  care- 
ful experimenting,  and  that  the  answers  to 
many  such  questions  can  be  stated  as  empiri- 
cal rules  which  hold  good  within  definable 
limits  for  all  normal  subjects.  The  possibili- 
ties of  applying  experiment,  illustrated  by  the 
few  simple  examples  mentioned  above,  have 
been  actively  exploited  during  the  last  half 
century;  many  ingenious  methods  of  experi- 
ment and  many  useful  pieces  of  apparatus 
have  been  devised;  and,  since  the  conduct  of 
experiments  which  involve  the  use  of  appara- 
tus of  any  complexity  demands  a  properly 
fitted  laboratory,  there  has  grown  up  within 
the  field  of  experimental  psychology  a  more 


128  PSYCHOLOGY 

special  field  of  laboratory  psychology.  But, 
though  owing  to  practical  necessities  there  is  a 
tendency  to  regard  this  as  a  separate  depart- 
ment, like  experiment  in  general  it  consists 
merely  in  special  refinements  of  the  three 
great  methods  of  observation  which  are  appli- 
cable in  the  various  departments.  Experi- 
mental observation  and  laboratory  methods 
are  most  extensively  applied  in  the  first  of  the 
departments  of  our  list  (p.  123),  namely,  the 
psychology  of  normal  human  adults :  for  only 
with  well-trained  adult  subjects  can  the  most 
complete  experiments  be  made;  only  in  such 
subjects  can  we  hope  to  find  the  necessary 
patience  and  scientific  conscience;  and  only 
from  them  can  we  hope  to  obtain  uniformly 
trustworthy  introspective  reports.  Never- 
theless, experiments,  and  even  the  laboratory 
methods  of  experiment,  are  now  largely  used  in 
other  departments,  especially  in  the  study  of 
children  and  of  patients  suffering  from  mental 
disorders.  In  the  field  of  child-study  they  are 
being  applied  with  especial  vigour  and  en- 
thusiasm to  the  elucidation  of  many  educa- 
tional problems;  such  problems  as  the  follow- 
ing:— What  are  the  most  effective  methods 
of  learning  by  heart?  What  is  the  effect 
upon  memory  in  general  of  practice  in  com- 
mitting to  heart  verses  or  other  matter?  To 


METHODS  AND  DEPARTMENTS      129 

what  extent,  if  any,  does  the  study  of  algebra 
improve  the  pupil's  ability  to  master  arith- 
metic or  geometry?  Are  there  any  advan- 
tages in  appealing  to  two  or  more  senses 
whenever  possible,  instead  of  to  eye  or  to 
ear  alone?  In  what  way  and  in  what  degree 
can  the  power  of  visual  imagination  be  profit- 
ably developed  by  special  exercises?  In 
what  way  does  the  fatigue  induced  by  the 
wage-earning  of  "half-timers"  and  evening 
scholars  affect  their  school  work?  These  are 
a  few  out  of  hundreds  of  questions,  answers 
to  vvhich  (of  the  first  importance  for  educa- 
tional practice  and  policy)  can  only  be 
obtained  by  systematic  experimenting. 

Even  in  the  study  of  animals,  where  we 
cannot  hope  for  introspective  reports  to  help 
us  in  the  interpretation  of  the  behaviour  we 
observe,  experiment  is  now  much  used.  If, 
for  example,  we  throw  to  a  chicken  a  grub  or 
caterpillar  of  nauseous  flavour,  and  observe 
its  behaviour  towards  this  kind  of  grub 
on  the  first  and  subsequent  occasions,  we 
repeat  an  experiment  which  has  become 
famous  and  found  its  way  into  scores  of  books 
on  psychology.  Or  we  may  confine  a  white 
rat  in  a  cage,  the  only  outlet  from  which  is  a 
passage  with  several  turns  and  blind  alleys 
opening  from  it;  by  observing  its  behaviour 


130  PSYCHOLOGY 

in  escaping  on  successive  occasions,  we  may 
get  some  notion  of  its  capacity  to  "learn  the 
way  out";  and,  by  modifying  the  conditions, 
we  can  learn  on  which  senses  the  animal 
chiefly  relies  in  the  process  of  learning.  Or 
we  may  allow  a  monkey  to  learn  to  extract 
nuts  from  a  box  by  manipulating  a  simple 
piece  of  mechanism;  and  then,  by  putting  his 
nuts  in  a  differently  constructed  box,  we  may 
discover  how  far  he  is  aided  by  his  famili- 
arity with  the  former  mechanism  in  the  task 
of  solving  the  similar  but  rather  different 
problem.  Such  observation  under  natural 
and  experimental  conditions  of  the  behaviour 
of  animals  of  all  grades,  from  the  microscopic 
amoeba  to  the  dog  and  the  still  more  highly 
intelligent  chimpanzee,  or  the  mysteriously 
co-operating  ants  and  bees,  is  now  one  of  the 
most  actively  pursued  departments  of  psy- 
chology; it  offers  an  inexhaustible  field  for  in- 
quiry, which  becomes  ever  more  fascinating 
and  profitable  the  further  our  knowledge 
advances. 

It  has  been  said  that  measurement  is  the 
essence  of  science,  that  where  there  can  be  no 
measurement  there  can  be  no  science.  From 
this  premise  it  has  sometimes  been  argued  that 
there  can  be  no  science  of  psychology;  for,  it 
was  said,  states  of  consciousness  are  incapable 


METHODS  AND  DEPARTMENTS        131 

of  being  measured.  The  conclusion  cannot 
be  accepted.  The  argument  is  simply  a  mass 
of  error  and  confusion.  Without  delaying  to 
expose  it  in  detail,  it  may  be  pointed  out  that 
the  premise  is  a  wholly  unwarranted  piece  of 
dogmatism.  Several  of  the  generally  recog- 
nized sciences  owe  little  or  nothing  to  measure- 
ment, and  they  would  lose  but  little  of  their 
scientific  character  if  all  exact  measurement 
were  banned  from  them;  such,  for  example, 
are  geology  and  most  of  the  biological  sciences. 
Further,  measurement,  and  even  exact  meas- 
urement, is  possible  in  psychology,  and  has 
been  extensively  applied.  We  can  measure 
the  accuracy  of  judgments  of  many  kinds, 
e.  g.  of  judgments  of  weight  by  the  hand,  of 
pitch  by  the  ear,  of  brightness,  of  colour- 
tone,  or  of  length,  by  the  eye;  in  such  cases, 
by  aid  of  simple  apparatus  and  rules  of  pro- 
cedure, we  can  measure  with  any  desired 
degree  of  refinement  the  average  error  of 
judgment  of  a  given  subject  under  constant 
conditions;  and  we  can  express  the  accuracy 
of  his  power  of  judging  in  terms  of  this  aver- 
age error;  or  we  can  detect  the  influence  of 
certain  disturbing  conditions  which  tend  to 
induce  erroneous  judgment,  and  accurately 
measure  the  magnitude  of  that  influence.  It 
follows  that  we  can  measure  the  influence  of 


132  PSYCHOLOGY 

a  variety  of  conditions  upon  the  accuracy  of 
judgments  of  many  kinds;  for  example,  the 
influence  of  practice  and  of  fatigue,  of  prepos- 
session or  bias.  We  can  measure  also  the 
duration  of  many  mental  processes  to  within  a 
few  thousandths  of  a  second.  And  we  can 
measure  the  rate  of  execution  and  repetition 
and  the  accuracy  of  performance  of  many 
mental  tasks. 

A  kind  of  measurement  of  especial  value 
and  wide  application  in  psychology  is  the 
counting  the  number  of  repetitions  of  a  proc- 

I  ess  involved  in  the  execution  of  a  given  task: 
for  example,  the  number  of  repetitions  re- 
quired to  commit  a  given  quantity  of  verbal 
matter  to  memory,  or  to  re-learn  it  to  the 
same  degree  of  perfection  after  a  given  inter- 
val; the  number  of  repetitions  of  a  particular 
combination  of  movements  required  in  order 
to  render  it  automatic  or  independent  of 
attentive  control;  the  number  of  momentary 
glances  at  a  picture  or  at  such  an  object  as  a 
series  of  printed  numbers,  letters,  or  words, 

i  that  the  subject  must  take  in  order  to  appre- 

l  hend  every  detail. 

In  all  these  and  in  other  ways,  data  are 
being  accumulated  from  which  conclusions 
of  many  kinds  can  be  drawn;  and,  since  for 
many  purposes  large  masses  of  such  numerical 


METHODS  AND  DEPARTMENTS      133 

data  secured  by  experiment  are  required  as 
the  basis  for  general  conclusions,  the  oppor- 
tunity arises  of  submitting  the  figures  to 
mathematical  treatment  and  of  extracting 
from  them  in  this  way  much  knowledge  which 
otherwise  would  remain  hidden.  There  is 
thus  growing  up  what  is  sometimes  regarded 
as  a  special  department,  namely,  mathe- 
matical psychology,  but  which  is  a  special 
development  of  experimental  method  appli- 
cable in  the  several  departments,  rather  than 
itself  a  department. 

A  few  words  must  be  said  of  another  line 
of  study  which  makes  some  claim  to  be 
regarded  as  a  special  department  under  the 
title  physiological  psychology.  We  only  know 
mind  or  purposive  activity  as  embodied  in 
organisms;  and,  since  our  cognitive  processes 
are  largely  determined  by  physical  impres- 
sions made  on  our  sense-organs  and  transmit- 
ted from  them  along  the  nerves  to  the  brain, 
and  since  our  conative  processes  guide  and 
control  bodily  activities  through  the  medium 
of  the  brain  and  nerves,  it  follows  that  the 
psychologist  cannot  be  indifferent  to  all  the 
knowledge  of  the  organs  of  the  body  gained 
by  the  detailed  study  of  them  by  the  methods 
of  physiology.  Therefore,  in  each  depart- 
ment, the  student  of  behaviour  must  master 


134  PSYCHOLOGY 

as  fully  as  possible  all  that  the  anatomists  and 
physiologists  can  tell  him  of  the  structure  and 
functions  of  the  organs,  especially  of  the 
nervous  system  and  sense  organs,  of  the  living 
beings  he  studies.  It  would,  for  example,  be 
absurd  to  discuss  the  mental  powers  of  bisects 
in  ignorance  of  the  peculiar  structure  of  their 
eyes,  or  to  attempt  to  account  for  the  peculiar 
mental  state  of  the  aphasic  patient  without 
any  knowledge  of  the  nature  and  effects 
of  brain  injuries  of  the  kind  to  which  his 
sudden  loss  of  the  power  of  speech  is  due. 
For  the  bodily  organs  and  their  processes 
are  the  media  through  which  the  mind  is 
kept  in  touch  both  with  the  world  of  material 
objects  and  with  other  minds;  and  the  pur- 
posive control  and  guidance  of  these  processes 
is  from  the  biological  standpoint  the  prime 
and  immediate  function  of  mind.  Physiologi- 
cal psychology  is,  then,  not  a  province  or 
department,  but  rather  a  method  applicable 
within  each  department,  a  method  which 
supplements  at  many  points  the  three  great 
methods  of  psychological  observation.  It 
may  also  be  regarded  as  a  debatable  ground 
in  which  physiology,  with  its  mechanical 
explanations,  and  psychology,  with  its  ex- 
planations in  terms  of  purpose,  come  together, 
affording  each  other  what  help  they  can,  yet 


METHODS  AND  DEPARTMENTS      135 

each  striving  to  extend  its  principles  of  ex- 
planation as  widely  as  possible,  in  order  to 
make  good  its  claim  to  explain  the  facts  of 
behaviour,  and  to  absorb  its  rival  by  making 
of  it  a  department  of  itself. 

We  sometimes  hear  also  the  expression 
"comparative  psychology"  used  in  a  way  that 
implies  the  existence  of  a  special  department 
of  that  name.  But  this  usage,  again,  is  mis- 
leading; there  is  no  such  department;  rather 
every  department  is,  or  should  be,  compara- 
tive, in  so  far  as  it  does,  or  could,  use  the  com- 
parative method;  that  is  to  say,  in  so  far  as, 
in  attacking  its  special  problems,  it  does,  or 
could,  bring  the  observations  and  conclusions 
or  other  departments  to  its  aid. 

These  general  remarks  upon  the  methods 
and  departments  of  psychology  may  be  con- 
cluded by  pointing  out  that  each  department 
has,  as  it  were,  a  double  life  and  purpose.  On 
the  one  hand  it  contributes  what  it  can  to- 
wards the  solution  of  what  we  have  called  the 
central  problems  of  psychology,  the  problems 
of  the  structure,  functioning,  and  genesis  of 
the  normal  human  mind.  On  the  other  hand 
it  has  problems  and  a  field  of  applications 
peculiar  to  itself,  in  relation  to  which  it 
devises  special  methods  of  study,  produces  a 
highly  specialized  literature,  and  is  prose- 


136  PSYCHOLOGY 

cuted  by  bands  of  specialized  workers,  who 
too  often,  it  must  be  admitted,  show  them- 
selves indifferent  to,  or  ignorant  of,  the 
problems,  methods,  and  results  of  other 
departments. 

In  the  following  pages  it  remains  to  con- 
sider how  each  of  the  departments  of  psy- 
chology is  meeting  its  special  problems,  and 
how  each  is  contributing  to  forward  the  central 
work  of  the  science,  the  discovery  of  the  laws 
of  function,  structure,  and  genesis  of  the 
normal  human  mind. 

The  first  department  on  our  list,  the  study 
of  the  normal  human  adult,  which,  until  the 
modern  period,  was  the  only  branch  of  psy- 
chology seriously  pursued,  must  always  hold 
its  place  as  in  some  sense  the  most  important; 
for  its  work  is  to  deliver  the  frontal  attack 
upon  the  central  fortress.  Nevertheless  it  is 
now  evident  that  the  frontal  attack  cannot 
hope  to  succeed  without  the  aid  of  the  other 
lines  of  advance.  Sixty  years  ago  this 
department,  which  then  was  the  whole  of  the 
science,  was  thought,  even  by  some  of  its 
exponents,  to  have  well-nigh  achieved  its  task; 
but  now  we  can  see  that  it  had  not  gamed 
sight  of  the  greater  part  of  the  difficulties 
before  it,  and  that  it  had  done  nothing  more 
than  survey  the  outermost  walls  and  capture 


METHODS  AND  DEPARTMENTS    137 

a  few  of  the  advanced  posts  of  the  fortress. 
For  in  this  science,  more  than  in  any  other,  a 
most  difficult  task  is  the  first  and  indispensa- 
ble one  of  discovering  and  formulating  the 
problems  to  be  solved.  This  appearance  of 
finality  was  due  merely  to  the  fact  that  the 
old  method  of  unaided  introspection  was 
incapable  of  advancing  our  knowledge  beyond 
the  point  to  which  it  had  already  carried  it. 

The  mam  work  of  this  department  falls 
under  two  heads:  first,  to  carry  to  an  ever 
greater  pitch  of  refinement  the  introspective 
description  of  mental  process  by  the  aid  of 
the  new  experimental  methods;  secondly,  to 
bring  to  bear  upon  the  central  problems  all 
the  new  light  provided  by  the  work  of  the 
other  departments.  Of  the  nature  of  the 
experimental  work  some  slight  indications 
have  been  given  hi  the  preceding  chapter. 
It  is  too  highly  technical  for  further  descrip- 
tion in  these  pages.  The  new  light  provided 
by  the  other  departments  and  its  bearing  on 
the  central  problems  can  be  best  discussed  hi 
briefly  reviewing  each  of  these  departments  in 
turn. 


138  PSYCHOLOGY 

CHAPTER  V 

THE   STUDY   OF  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

LONG  ago  the  great  Greek  thinker,  Aris- 
totle, initiated  the  study  of  animal  behaviour 
and  set  it  in  its  true  relation  to  the  psychology 
of  man.  He  taught  that  the  behaviour  of 
animals  is  the  expression  of  powers  of  pur- 
posive control  which  are  exercised  by  man 
also;  the  difference  between  man  and  animals 
being  the  possession  by  man  of  powers  which 
the  animals  do  not  possess,  in  addition  to 
those  which  they  have  in  common  with  him. 
But,  after  this  good  beginning,  more  than  two 
thousand  years  elapsed  before  the  study  was 
taken  up  again  from  this  sound  standpoint. 

At  the  dawn  of  the  era  of  modern  science, 
Descartes,  perhaps  the  most  influential  phi- 
losopher of  the  seventeenth  century,  put  off 
the  time  of  this  return  to  the  true  line  of  prog- 
ress by  contending  that,  while  men's  actions 
are  governed  by  the  will  and  purpose  of  a 
reasoning  soul,  animals  are  merely  complex 
machines — that  all  their  movements  are  fully 
explicable  by  the  mechanical  principles  which 
enable  us  to  construct,  control,  and  under- 
stand the  movements  of  a  clock,  or  a  pump, 
or  any  other  piece  of  mechanism. 


STUDY  OF  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR     139 

Hardly  less  prejudicial  to  the  study  of 
animal  behaviour  was  the  doctrine  of  instinct, 
which  was  for  a  long  time  the  only  rival 
of  Descartes'  theory.  It  was  a  theological 
rather  than  a  scientific  doctrine.  In  so  far 
as  it  was  in  any  sense  scientific,  it  was  of  the 
old  "faculty  psychology";  and  it  affords  the 
clearest  example  of  the  pernicious  effects  ex- 
erted by  the  misuse  of  the  notion  of  faculties. 
The  actions  of  men  were  said  to  be  governed 
by  the  faculty  of  reason,  those  of  animals 
by  the  faculty  of  instinct;  and  this  attribution 
of  the  actions  of  animals  to  instinct  seems  to 
have  disguised  from  most  of  those  who  used 
the  word  the  need  for  further  study  or  ex- 
planation of  them.  It  was  a  striking  example 
of  the  power  of  a  word  to  cloak  our  ignorance 
and  to  hide  it  even  from  ourselves.  Those 
who  tried  to  go  behind  the  word,  to  seek  some 
further  explanation  of  animal  behaviour, 
usually  represented  the  instinctive  acts  of 
animals  as  directly  guided  by  the  hand  of 
God.  Now  it  would  be  presumptuous  to 
assert  that  they  are  not  guided  by  the  hand 
of  God;  but,  however  firmly  we  may  believe 
that  the  world,  and  especially  the  world  of 
life,  is  hi  some  sense  the  working  out  of  the 
design  of  a  beneficent  Creator,  we  have  to 
recognize  that  men  cannot  escape  responsi- 


140  PSYCHOLOGY 

bility  for  the  intelligent  direction  of  their  own 
lives  and  those  of  their  humbler  fellow- 
creatures.  This  responsibility  implies  the 
obligation  to  obtain  wherever  possible  the  kind 
of  understanding,  both  of  our  own  natures  and 
of  those  of  animals,  that  will  enable  us  to  con- 
trol as  fully  as  possible  the  course  of  events. 

Early  in  the  nineteenth  century,  the  great 
French  naturalist,  Lamarck,  began  the  work 
of  setting  the  study  of  animal  behaviour  on 
its  modern  lines  by  propounding  his  theory  of 
animal  evolution;  according  to  this  theory, 
new  forms  arise  by  the  transmission  to  off- 
spring of  the  adaptations  of  structure  and 
function  achieved  by  the  parent.  But  it 
was  not  until  the  work  of  Charles  Darwin, 
especially  his  theory  of  natural  selection,  con- 
vinced the  world  that  all  the  forms  of  life,  man 
not  excepted,  had  been  continuously  evolved 
from  some  simple  primordial  form,  that  the 
problem  of  the  relation  of  the  human  to  the 
animal  mind  excited  a  widespread  interest 
and  began  to  be  seriously  studied.  Darwin 
himself  had  argued  that,  just  as  the  human 
body  with  all  its  wonderful  perfections  of 
structure  and  function  seems  to  have  been 
evolved  by  a  long  series  of  minute  steps  from 
the  body  of  some  animal  species  allied  to  the 
existing  manlike  apes,  so  also  all  the  structure 


STUDY  OF  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR     141 

and  functions  of  his  mind  must  be  regarded 
as  having  been  evolved  by  a  similar  series 
of  minute  steps  from  the  mind  of  the  same 
animal  ancestor.  (See  Geddes  &  Thomson: 
"Evolution.") 

Herbert  Spencer  also  had  propounded  in- 
dependently of  Darwin  a  theory  of  continuous 
evolution  which  implied  the  evolution  of 
the  mental  powers  of  man  from  those  of 
animals;  he  had  attempted  to  show  how  the 
brain  of  man  may  be  supposed  to  have  been 
gradually  evolved  by  steps  of  increasing  com- 
plexity of  organization  from  a  nervous  system 
of  very  simple  type,  such  as  is  found  in  some 
lowly  animals;  and  he  had  assumed  that 
the  evolution  of  the  powers  of  the  mind  had 
run  parallel  with  that  of  the  nervous  system, 
and  that  each  step  of  mental  evolution  might 
in  fact  be  regarded  as  the  effect  or  expression 
of  a  corresponding  step  of  nervous  evolution. 

These  views  naturally  excited  violent  oppo- 
sition in  many  quarters;  for  they  were  felt 
to  endanger  the  privileged  position  which 
man  had  assumed  to  be  his,  and  to  be  in- 
consistent hi  many  ways  with  the  generally 
accepted  doctrines  of  religion.  The  old 
antagonism  between  religion  and  science  was 
fanned  into  a  new  flame,  and  there  was  waged 
a  violent  controversy,  the  faint  rumblings  of 


142  PSYCHOLOGY 

which  may  still  be  heard  by  an  attentive 
ear. 

These  new  doctrines  and  the  consequent 
controversies  gave  a  great  stimulus  to  the 
study  of  animal  behaviour;  and  much  accu- 
rate knowledge  has  been  accumulated  by  these 
studies.  But  it  cannot  be  said  that  the  prin- 
cipal questions  hi  dispute  have  been  finally 
settled.  The  continuity  of  mental  evolution 
of  man  from  lower  forms  has  in  the  main  been 
accepted,  though  a  few  authoritative  voices 
still  protest  against  this  acceptance.  It  is 
generally  admitted  that  we  may  confidently 
accept  the  doctrine  of  continuity  of  mental 
evolution  throughout  the  animal  world;  but 
it  is  pointed  out  that,  between  the  mind  of 
man  and  that  of  the  highest  animal,  there  is 
an  enormous  gap;  and  it  is  urged  that  we 
cannot  legitimately  suppose  this  great  gap  to 
have  been  bridged  by  the  slow  processes  of 
evolution.  It  is  further  urged  that  there  are 
differences  of  kind  as  well  as  of  degree  between 
the  powers  of  the  human  and  those  of  the 
animal  mind.  To  the  first  of  these  objections 
the  thoroughgoing  evolutionist  returns  two 
overwhelming  replies.  It  is  admitted,  he  says, 
that  the  degrees  of  development  of  mental 
powers  in  the  animal  kingdom  run  parallel 
in  the  main  with  the  degrees  of  development 


STUDY  OF  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR     143 

of  the  nervous  system.  Now,  between  the 
nervous  system  of  man  and  that  of  the  highest 
animal  there  is  in  the  scale  of  complexity  of 
organization  an  enormous  gap,  which  corre- 
sponds to  the  gap  in  the  scale  of  mental  pow- 
ers; and  we  have,  therefore,  good  reason  to 
believe  that,  if  we  could  observe  the  animals 
whose  nervous  systems  filled  the  gap  in  the 
scale  of  nervous  organization,  we  should  find 
that  they  possessed  mental  powers  which  filled 
the  corresponding  gap  in  the  scale  of  mental 
organization.  The  second  reply  of  the  evolu- 
tionist supplements  the  first  in  a  very  effective 
manner,  as  follows.  The  study  of  the  bodily 
and  mental  development  of  human  beings 
shows  that  each  one  of  us,  in  the  course  of 
his  growth  from  a  microscopic  germ  in  his 
mother's  womb  to  adult  life,  exhibits,  as  re- 
gards both  his  bodily  and  his  mental  powers 
and  organization,  a  continuous  evolution: 
at  no  point  does  any  new  factor  suddenly 
appear;  but,  in  accordance  with  the  well- 
established  law  of  recapitulation,  both  the 
organization  of  the  nervous  system  and  the 
development  of  mental  capacity  progress  con- 
tinuously, roughly  reproducing  in  their  suc- 
cessive stages  similar  stages  of  the  course  of 
racial  evolution.  If,  then,  the  child  can  cross 
in  the  course  of  some  few  years  the  great  gap 


144  PSYCHOLOGY 

in  the  scale  of  mental  organization,  how  can 
we  with  any  plausibility  deny  that  the  race 
may  have  crossed  the  same  gap  in  the  course 
of  millions  of  years? 

As  regards  the  contention  that  the  powers 
of  the  human  mind  differ  not  only  in  degree, 
but  also  in  kind,  from  those  of  the  animals;  it 
is  to  be  noted  that  it  raises  a  difficulty  for  the 
doctrine  of  the  continuity  of  mental  evolu- 
tion, only  if  it  is  accepted  as  meaning  that  the 
human  mind  has  powers  of  which  no  feeblest 
germ  or  trace  is  indicated  by  the  behaviour 
of  animals.  Now,  it  is  generally  recognized 
that  Darwin  and  many  of  his  immediate 
followers,  biased,  perhaps,  to  some  extent  by 
the  desire  to  diminish  the  gap  between  the 
human  and  the  animal  mind,  seriously  over- 
estimated the  mental  powers  of  the  higher 
animals,  putting  upon  their  behaviour  in 
many  cases  anthropomorphic  interpretations 
which  were  not  justifiable.  Nevertheless, 
though  we  severely  restrain  this  tendency  to 
exalt  the  mental  powers  of  animals  above  their 
true  level,  the  gap  no  longer  seems  so  wide  as 
it  did  half  a  century  ago;  for  the  new  insight 
into  the  nature  of  mental  processes  brought 
by  the  study  of  animals  has  diminished  the 
gap  from  the  human  side,  by  showing  us  that 
in  important  respects  human  mental  proc- 


STUDY  OF  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR     145 

esses  are  more  like  those  of  the  animals 
than  had  previously  been  supposed. 

Philosophers  had  agreed  with  popular  tradi- 
tion in  describing  man  as  a  rational  being 
and  attributing  all  his  actions  and  beliefs  to 
reasoned  motives  and  logical  operations. 
For,  studying  chiefly  or  solely  their  own 
minds,  which  no  doubt  approximated  more 
nearly  than  any  others  to  the  ideal  of  a  purely 
rational  mind,  they  overlooked  the  fact  that 
much  of  human  behaviour  is  the  outcome 
of  crude  impulses  and  desires  which  reason 
cannot  approve  and  the  will  cannot  control; 
and  they  overlooked  also  the  fact  that  a  large 
proportion  of  the  beliefs  which  are  expressed 
in  the  conduct  of  the  average  man  have  been 
acquired  by  processes  of  an  alogical  nature 
and  are  incapable  of  being  justified  by 
logic. 

When  we  have  made  such  necessary  cor- 
rections in  our  estimates  of  the  minds  of  men 
and  animals,  we  have  to  admit,  indeed,  that 
the  gap  between  them  is  immense;  but  we 
may  agree  with  the  preponderant  opinion 
among  competent  persons,  which  asserts  that 
the  mental  functions  of  man  present  no  such 
radical  difference  in  kind  as  would  forbid 
us  to  believe  in  the  continuity  of  mental 
evolution;  for  evidence  of  some  rudiment 


146  PSYCHOLOGY 

of  every  type  of  mental  function  may  be 
discovered  in  animal  behaviour. 

The  study  of  animal  behaviour  has  hitherto 
taught  us  three  lessons  of  high  importance  for 
psychology:  (1)  It  has  made  clearer  the  na- 
ture of  mental  or  purposive  activity,  and  has 
revealed  its  prevalence  throughout  the  whole 
of  the  animal  world;  (2)  it  has  elucidated  the 
very  bases  of  human  nature  by  displaying 
in  relative  simplicity  among  the  animals  the 
modes  of  activity  which  constitute  that  basis, 
but  which  in  human  life  are  so  complicated 
and  obscured  by  the  great  development  of 
our  intellectual  nature  that  they  for  long 
eluded  almost  completely  the  penetration  of 
philosophers;  (3)  it  has  shown  us  how  we 
have  to  conceive  in  its  main  outlines  the 
course  of  evolution  which  has  culminated  in 
the  human  mind.  We  may  devote  a  few  words 
to  each  of  these  topics. 

The  kind  of  purposive  activity  with  which 
each  of  us  is  most  familiar  is  the  voluntary 
striving  to  bring  about  some  state  of  affairs 
which  he  has  clearly  conceived  beforehand, 
which  he  has  judged  to  be  desirable  or  good, 
and  which  he  has  deliberately  designed  and 
resolved  to  bring  about.  Of  such  an  activity 
he  can  say — I  act  thus  and  thus  in  order  to 
achieve  this  end,  which  I  desire  to  se^  achieved 


STUDY  OF  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR     147 

because,  contemplating  it  in  idea,  I  foresee 
that  its  realization  will  bring  me  satisfaction. 
Such  activity,  therefore,  becomes  for  us  the 
type  of  purposive  activity;  and,  when  we  are 
able  to  infer  that  the  activity  of  any  other 
being  conforms  to  the  same  type,  we  feel 
that  we  understand  it  or  can  explain  it. 
But  there  remains  a  deeper  question:  Why 
should  the  attainment  of  the  particular  end 
afford  me  satisfaction?  The  answer  to  this 
question  that  was  most  commonly  accepted, 
before  the  study  of  animal  behaviour  had 
made  some  progress,  ran  as  follows :  Because 
I  have  found  on  former  occasions  that  a  situa- 
tion, similar  to  that  which  I  desire  to  bring 
about,  gives  me  pleasure  or  eases  me  of  pain. 
Such  increase  of  pleasure  or  diminution  of 
pain  was  thus  regarded  as  the  goal  of  all  pur- 
pose and  volition,  the  object  of  all  the  desires 
that  are  the  motives  of  our  actions.  It  was 
admitted  that  a  far-sighted  man  might  prefer 
distant  pleasures  of  great  magnitude  to  the 
lesser  pleasures  of  present  bodily  ease,  and 
that  he  might  even  choose  to  suffer  pain,  if 
it  seemed  a  necessary  step  to  the  attainment 
of  the  greater  pleasures:  and  thus  was  ex- 
plained such  facts  as  that  Christian  martyrs 
without  number  had  chosen  to  suffer  at  the 
stake  and  in  the  arena  rather  than  to  renounce 


148  PSYCHOLOGY 

their  faith;  for,  it  was  said,  they  believed  that 
by  so  doing  they  would  secure  the  very  intense 
and  lasting  pleasures  of  heaven  and  escape 
the  enduring  tortures  of  hell. 

This  theory  of  human  motives  (known  as 
psychological  hedonism)  was  made  the  basis 
of  a  philosophy  of  morals  and  politics  which 
claimed  to  be  complete  and  ultimate,  and 
which  has  exercised  a  great  and  beneficent 
influence  throughout  the  civilized  world  and 
has  done  much  to  shape  our  laws  and  institu- 
tions; namely,  the  Utilitarian  philosophy. 
But  the  study  of  animal  behaviour  has  led  us 
to  see  that  this  theory  of  motives  was  false. 
When  the  behaviour  of  animals  was  studied 
without  prejudice,-  it  became  apparent  that 
the  animal  world  also  has  its  martyrs.  Many 
an  animal-mother  strives  with  all  the  energy 
of  her  being  against  overwhelming  odds  and, 
unflinching,  meets  death  in  its  most  cruel 
form,  rather  than  desert  her  young  to  seek  an 
easy  safety  in  flight.  Yet,  what  nice  calcula- 
tion of  the  balance  of  pleasure  over  pain  can 
be  supposed  to  sustain  her  efforts?  She 
surely  has  no  unshakable  belief  in  heavenly 
rewards  or  hellish  punishments!  Nor  can  we 
suppose  that  she  dreads  the  pain  of  remorse 
that  may  follow  upon  her  desertion  of  her 
post.  She  takes  no  thought  of  the  morrow, 


STUDY  OF  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR      149 

anticipates  neither  good  nor  evil,  neither 
pleasure  nor  pain;  but,  heedless  of  all  conse- 
quences, she  makes  one  supreme  self-sacrific- 
ing effort  to  fulfil  the  purpose  of  her  being,  to 
hand  on  the  torch  of  life  undimmed.  In  her 
frail  organism  runs  one  slender  stream  of  the 
great  purpose  which  animates  all  living  beings, 
whose  end  we  can  only  dimly  conceive  and 
vaguely  describe  as  the  perpetuation  and 
increase  of  life. 

Such  instances  of  animal  self-sacrifice  are 
well  suited  to  arrest  our  attention  and  to 
set  us  thinking,  and  indications  of  the  truth 
to  which  they  so  clearly  point  may  be  seen 
on  every  hand  in  the  world  of  animal  be- 
haviour. This  simple  but  profound  truth 
is  that  in  particular  situations  animals  behave 
in  this  or  that  way,  striving  persistently,  often 
putting  forth  all  their  energy  to  the  point  of 
exhaustion,  because  in  each  case  it  is  the 
creature's  nature  so  to  do,  under  the  given 
conditions.  The  solitary  wasp  laboriously 
drags  to  her  carefully  prepared  nest  the  prey 
secured  by  a  day's  hunting,  and  seals  it  there 
together  with  her  egg,  in  order  that  it  may 
serve  as  food  for  the  offspring  which  she  will 
never  see,  and  of  whose  needs  or  existence 
she  can  have  no  knowledge.  The  young  bird 
flies  a  thousand  miles  across  land  and  sea, 


150  PSYCHOLOGY 

seeking,  she  knows  not  why,  the  climate  best 
suited  to  her  young.  She  builds  her  nest 
according  to  the  pattern  of  the  species  and 
broods  over  her  eggs;  experiencing,  we  may 
suppose,  a  continued  satisfaction  in  the  prog- 
ress of  her  work;  but  without,  we  may  con- 
fidently say,  once  thinking  of  the  young  birds 
to  whose  welfare  all  her  labours  are  directed. 
The  young  male  nightingale,  arriving  in  the 
spring  from  his  distant  winter  haunts,  takes 
up  his  station  in  a  dense  bush  and  pours  forth 
night  after  night  and  all  day  long  his  flood  of 
music,  without  any  conscious  anticipation  of 
the  mate  whom  his  song  will  bring  to  his  side; 
though,  when  she  comes,  he  knows  well  how 
to  welcome  her.  The  young  horse  snorts  and 
shies  at  the  dark  object  crouched  upon  the 
roadside,  though  it  is  thousands  of  years  since 
the  wolves  laid  in  wait  for  his  ancestors. 
The  town-bred,  domesticated,  well-fed  terrier 
cannot  resist  the  smell  of  the  rabbit  on  the 
grass,  and  follows  the  trail  in  wild  excitement, 
deaf  to  his  master's  call;  though  he  knows 
nothing  of  ground  game  and  has  never  before 
set  eyes  or  nose  on  a  rabbit. 

In  all  these  and  in  countless  other  instances 
of  animal  behaviour  we  see  the  same  fact — 
the  animal  is  impelled  to  act  as  he  does,  at 
each  step  foreseeing  at  most  the  immediate 


STUDY  OF  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR     151 

consequence  of  his  acts  and  nothing  of  the 
remote  ends  subserved  by  them.  Must  we, 
then,  go  back  to  the  doctrine  of  Descartes, 
and  conclude  that  what  we  call  the  purposive 
activities  of  animals  are  hi  reality  purely 
mechanical  processes,  differing  only  in  com- 
plexity from  those  of  any  man-made  machine, 
and  that  the  actions  of  man  alone  of  all  living 
beings  are  directed  and  sustained  by  purpose? 
This  we  must  refuse  to  do  for  two  good 
reasons.  First,  the  actions  of  the  animals, 
from  the  simplest  to  the  highest,  present 
those  outward  or  objective  marks  of  purpose 
on  which  we  have  throughout  insisted; 
namely,  persistent  direction  towards  their 
proper  ends  in  spite  of  all  obstacles  and 
difficulties,  with  variation  in  detail  of  the 
modes  of  activity.  Secondly,  if  we  look  with 
.  unbiased  eyes  at  the  human  comedy,  ref using 
to  be  blinded  by  a  stupid  pride  and  the  tra- 
ditional contempt  for  our  humbler  fellow- 
creatures,  we  shall  see  that  much  of  our 
behaviour  is  strictly  analogous  to  these  char- 
acteristic actions  of  the  animals.  When  the 
young  infant  first  cries  aloud  his  discomfort, 
he  has  no  knowledge  of  the  hands  or  of  the 
breast  that  will  succour  him.  When  at  the 
first  crack  of  thunder  the  child  (or  the  adult) 
runs  trembling  to  hide  himself  in  the  nearest 


152  PSYCHOLOGY 

dark  corner,  he  has  no  conception  of  any 
hurtful  power  that  he  will  elude  in  his  hiding- 
place.  When  the  modest  maiden  puts  the 
last  touches  to  her  toilet,  blushing  at  her  own 
loveliness,  she  would  find  it  difficult  to  ac- 
count for  her  behaviour  in  terms  of  purpose. 
When  Romeo's  admiring  gaze  follows  her  and 
sends  her  fleeing  in  a  strange  confusion,  or 
when  she  lingers  a  moment  and  casts  one  back- 
ward glance,  she  may  in  perfect  truthfulness 
deny  all  knowledge  of  the  natural  end  of  her 
activities.  And,  even  when  later  she  submits 
to  his  embrace,  she  may  do  so  without  any 
anticipation  of  pleasure  or  of  pain  and  without 
foreseeing  one  step  of  the  way  on  which  her 
foot  is  set.  She  is  merely  fulfilling  the  pur- 
pose of  her  being,  prompted  to  each  action 
as  the  circumstances  arise  by  impulses  but 
little,  if  at  all,  less  blind  than  those  of  the 
nesting  bird. 

Romeo,  too,  when  bright  eyes  spur  him  on 
to  redoubled  efforts  in  the  game  of  strength 
and  skill  or  lend  a  new  music  to  his  voice, 
may  know  as  little  as  the  nightingale  pouring 
out  his  song  what  end  is  subserved  by  his 
reckless  output  of  energy. 

Or  consider  this  strong  man  in  the  prime 
of  life,  impelled  by  ambition  to  strain  all  the 
powers  of  his  cultivated  intellect  in  the 


STUDY  OF  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR     153 

pursuit  of  worldly  success.  His  course  of 
life  may  be  carefully  planned  out  for  many 
years  to  come  and  steadily  pursued.  He  is 
the  very  type  of  strong  purpose  and  resolu- 
tion; but  ask  him:  Why  does  he  pursue  this 
ambition,  why  strive  so  persistently  after  a 
high  place?  And  you  may  find  that  he  can- 
not tell  you.  He  well  knows  that  worldly 
success  is  dust  and  ashes;  that  fame  is  only 
valued  so  long  as  we  have  it  not;  that  he  could 
easily  obtain  a  wealth  of  pleasures  which  he 
now  foregoes.  All  he  can  tell  you  is — He  is 
built  like  that.  By  choosing  a  long  series 
of  types  of  human  and  animal  activity,  we 
might  construct  a  scale  which,  by  minute 
steps  of  difference,  would  lead  down  from  the 
most  truly  purposive  actions  of  man,  actions 
sustained  and  renewed  through  long  years  by 
a  firm  self-conscious  resolution  to  achieve 
some  clearly  conceived  end,  to  the  actions  of 
the  simplest  microscopic  animalcule.  Rather 
than  separate  the  animals  from  man  and 
assign  them  to  the  realm  of  mechanism,  or 
than  fly  at  once  to  the  extravagant  conclu- 
sion that  our  conviction  of  the  purposive  na- 
ture of  our  own  highest  activities  is  a  mere 
delusion  and  that  man  also  is  but  a  piece  of 
complex  machinery;  rather  than  consent  to 
put  aside  our  problem  with  this  unjustifiable 


154  PSYCHOLOGY 

and,  in  any  case,  wholly  premature  conclu- 
sion, we  must  revise  and  widen  our  notion  of 
purposive  activity.  Instead  of  taking  the 
most  developed  modes  of  human  volition  as 
the  type  and  form  of  all  purposive  activity,  we 
must  recognize  that  these  higher  modes,  in 
which  some  remote  end  of  the  activity  is 
clearly  conceived  and  willed,  are  but  the  most 
rare  and  highly  specialized  varieties  of  a  great 
genus  which  includes  all  modes  of  human 
and  animal  behaviour. 

The  truth  is  that  volition  springs  out  of 
blind  impulse,  presupposes  it,  and  is  only  a 
higher  development  of  it,  brought  about  by  a 
higher  organization  of  the  structure  of  the 
mind  in  both  its  cognitive  and  conative  as- 
pects. When  the  ambitious  man  forms  and 
pursues  his  resolution  to  achieve  a  high  place 
among  his  fellows,  he  does  so  only  in  virtue 
of  the  fact  that  the  structure  of  his  mind 
comprises  a  conative  disposition  the  excite- 
ment of  which  impels  him,  or  gives  rise  to  an 
impulse  which  drives  him  on,  to  assert  him- 
self, to  display  himself,  before  his  fellow-men. 
Only  in  virtue  of  his  possession  of  this  spe- 
cifically directed  disposition  does  a  great  posi- 
tion appear  to  him  a  desirable  object;  if  it 
were  lacking  in  his  constitution,  the  desires 
of  other  men  for  such  a  position  would  seem 


STUDY  OF  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR     155 

to  him  inexplicable  and  absurd.  Only  in 
virtue  of  the  possession  of  a  specialized  cona- 
tive  disposition,  does  the  innocent  youth  find 
his  glances,  his  steps,  his  thoughts,  irresistibly 
turning  to  the  maiden;  only  in  virtue  of  this, 
is  he  filled  with  a  vague  unrest  and  a  longing 
for  he  knows  not  what,  a  longing  which  makes 
all  other  ends  and  pursuits  seem  trivial  and 
unreal;  only  in  virtue  of  this,  is  he  liable  to 
be  seized  with  what  others,  who  have  partially 
forgotten  or  never  experienced  it,  speak  of 
as  the  strange  madness  of  romantic  love. 

Thus,  just  as  truly  as  the  actions  of  the 
animals,  all  instances  of  human  activity 
(even  the  most  truly  volitional  and  self- 
consciously directed)  imply  the  operation  of 
special  dispositions  through  which  the  con- 
ative  energy,  the  will  to  live,  is  directed 
to  prompt  and  sustain  particular  modes  of 
action;  each  of  these  conative  dispositions 
may  generate  either  a  mere  blind  impulse,  or  a 
desire  for  an  end  more  or  less  clearly  con- 
ceived. The  great  differences  between  the 
simpler  and  the  higher  modes  of  activity  are 
of  two  kinds:  first,  the  differences  in  the 
degree  of  clearness  and  fulness  with  which  the 
natural  end,  which  alone  can  satisfy  the  im- 
pulse in  each  case,  is  thought  of  and  the  steps 
towards  its  attainment  planned  out;  secondly, 


156  PSYCHOLOGY 

the  differences  in  the  degree  to  which  the  one 
impulse  co-operates  or  conflicts  with  other 
impulses  in  more  or  less  complex  fashion, 
according  to  the  complexity  of  organization 
of  the  mind's  structure. 

The  second  great  lesson,  learnt  in  the  main 
through  the  study  of  animal  behaviour,  is 
that  each  human  mind  does  not,  as  so  many 
of  the  older  writers  assumed,  start  upon  its 
career  like  a  blank  sheet  of  paper  or  a  smooth 
tablet  of  wax,  equally  ready  to  receive  and 
retain  whatever  impressions  the  outer  world 
may  make  upon  it,  and  endowed  merely  with 
the  power  of  re-shuffling  and  reproducing  in 
fainter  forms  these  vivid  sensory  impressions. 
Or,  to  put  the  matter  in  another  way,  it  has 
taught  us  that  each  individual  organism, 
human  or  animal,  begins  its  active  career 
either  with  some  considerable  part  of  its  full 
mental  structure,  both  cognitive  and  conative, 
already  perfected,  or,  if  with  but  little  per- 
fected structure,  still  with  much  in  the  way 
of  innate  tendencies  to  the  development  of 
structure. 

The  necessity  of  believing  in  the  trans- 
mission from  generation  to  generation  of  such 
innate  tendencies  to  the  development  of 
mental  structure  is  most  obviously  forced 
upon  us  by  the  behaviour  of  some  of  the 


insects;  for  in  the  insect  world  the  innately 
determined  structure  of  the  mind  is  commonly 
very  complex,  and  constitutes  a  larger  pro- 
portion of  the  total  structure  than  in  any 
other  of  the  higher  branches  of  the  tree  of 
life.  Of  all  the  insects,  the  solitary  wasps, 
perhaps,  illustrate  our  present  thesis  in  the 
most  striking  manner.  There  are  many 
species  which  prey  upon  insects  and  other 
small  creatures;  these  creatures  are  generally 
killed  or  paralyzed  by  stinging,  and  then  are 
packed  away  and  sealed  up  in  a  nest  or  bur- 
row together  with  one  or  more  eggs  of  the 
wasp,  there  to  serve  as  food  to  the  grub  which 
after  a  time  will  emerge  from  the  egg.  Now 
the  features  of  this  process,  of  especial  interest 
from  our  present  point  of  view,  are  two: — 
First,  the  wasps  of  each  species  (with  few 
exceptions)  prey  on  animals  of  one  kind  only, 
although  in  all  probability  the  grubs  of  each 
species  might  flourish  on  animal  food  of  almost 
any  kind;  one  species  of  wasp  preys  on  cater- 
pillars only,  another  on  grasshoppers,  a  third 
on  spiders,  and  so  on;  and  a  wasp  may  spend 
many  hours  searching  for  her  proper  prey 
amidst  an  abundance  of  other  small  creatures 
which  seem  equally  well  adapted  to  serve  as 
food  for  her  grubs.  This  choice  of  her  proper 
prey  is  not  the  result  of  imitation  of  other 


158  PSYCHOLOGY 

wasps  of  the  same  species,  nor  of  any  other 
process  of  learning;  for  the  wasp  hatches  out 
from  the  isolated  chrysalis  as  a  fully  adult 
insect,  and  shortly  proceeds  to  seek  her  prey. 
The  wasp,  then,  has  innate  power  of  recog- 
nizing her  proper  prey,  or,  in  the  sense  in 
which  we  have  defined  the  word  knowledge, 
she  must  be  said  to  have  innate  knowledge 
of  her  prey;  that  is  to  say,  she  inherits  a 
cognitive  disposition  which  renders  her  ca- 
pable of  knowing  her  prey,  when  it  comes 
within  range  of  her  sense-organs.  The  second 
point  of  interest  in  the  present  connection  is 
that  the  wasp  of  each  species  handles  her  prey 
in  a  manner  peculiar  to  her  species;  one  always 
stings  her  caterpillar  in  a  peculiarly  effective 
manner:  another  walks  backwards  as  she 
drags  her  prey  to  her  nest;  this  mode  of 
progression  gives  her  more  power  in  dragging 
large  specimens  of  the  kind  she  preys  upon, 
but  she  behaves  in  the  same  way  when  the 
specimen  is  so  small  that  she  could  easily 
run  forward  with  it  raised  in  her  jaws;  it  is 
as  though  a  man  should  stagger  home  with 
bent  back  and  bowed  legs,  under  the  weight 
of  a  pound  of  tea  slung  on  his  shoulders:  a 
third  always  straddles  across  the  body  of 
her  victim  as  she  carries  it  off:  one  species 
always  holds  her  prey  with  her  third  pair  of 


STUDY  OF  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR     159 

legs,  another  with  the  second  pair;  others 
hold  it  in  the  jaws.  And,  when  the  wasp  ar- 
rives at  her  nest  with  her  prey,  her  behaviour 
again  runs  on  stereotyped  lines;  one  species 
invariably  lays  down  her  prey  and  runs  into 
the  hole  she  has  prepared,  turns  about,  and 
drags  in  her  prey  after  her;  another  suspends 
it  on  the  crotch  of  some  low  branching  plant, 
while  she  explores  her  nest;  a  third  carries 
hers  directly  into  the  nest  without  prelim- 
inary exploration.  This  constancy  of  mode 
of  behaviour  of  each  species  in  the  normal 
course  of  their  activities  might  seem  at  first 
sight  to  favour  the  view  of  those  who  regard 
animals  as  mere  machines  (and  that  such 
insects  as  wasps  are  unconscious  mechanisms 
has  been  seriously  maintained  by  some 
modern  observers) ;  yet  these  same  wasps  are 
capable  of  intelligently  adapting  their  be- 
haviour to  unusual  circumstances,  and  they 
display  in  certain  respects  very  striking 
idiosyncrasies. 

Such  exhibition  of  complex  modes  of 
nicely  adapted  behaviour  without  previous 
experience  of  the  situation,  and  the  con- 
stancy of  such  modes  throughout  a  species, 
are  the  two  most  generally  accepted  marks 
of  instinctive  action.  For  the  word  instinc- 
tive survives  as  a  general  descriptive  term  for 


160  PSYCHOLOGY 

activities  of  this  kind;  though  modern  science 
is  no  longer  content  to  use  it  as  a  cloak  for 
ignorance,  and  to  regard  such  actions  as 
explained  by  attributing  them  to  a  faculty 
of  instinct:  it  uses  the  word  rather  to  mark 
the  need  for  a  theory.  The  foregoing  ex- 
amples of  instinctive  behaviour,  considered  in 
connection  with  the  general  account  of  mental 
structure  given  on  earlier  pages,  indicate 
clearly  what  our  theory  of  instinct  must  be. 
The  recognition  of  her  specific  prey  by  the 
wasp  of  each  species,  without  any  guidance 
from  her  previous  experience,  implies  the 
possession  of  a  corresponding  cognitive  dis- 
position, which  is  provided  in  the  innate 
constitution  and  becomes  functionally  perfect 
in  each  individual  without  being  exercised. 
The  handling  of  her  prey  by  each  individual 
in  the  manner  characteristic  of  her  species  on 
her  first  encounter  with  it,  similarly  implies 
the  possession  of  a  corresponding  innate 
conative  disposition.  And  the  fact  that  each 
wasp  reacts  in  this  specific  fashion  to  her 
specific  prey,  and  to  that  alone,  implies  that 
this  conative  disposition  is  innately  linked 
with  the  cognitive  disposition  that  enables 
her  to  recognize  her  prey.  This,  then,  is  the 
nature  of  an  instinct,  the  mental  structure 
which  is  the  condition  of  an  instinctive  action : 


STUDY  OF  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR     161 

it  consists  in  a  more  or  less  highly  specialized 
conative  disposition  linked  with  a  specialized 
cognitive  disposition;  the  whole  cognitive- 
conative  system  being  innate  or  inherited, 
that  is  to  say,  developing  spontaneously  in 
each  individual  to  a  state  in  which  it  is  capable 
of  determining  appropriate  reaction  to  its 
object. 

This  is  the  formula  by  which  we  may  in  a 
sense  explain  a  large  part  of  the  behaviour 
of  all  animals;  namely,  all  those  purposive 
reactions  which  imply  perceptual  discrimina- 
tion of  the  object  without  previous  experi- 
ence of  it.  Well-nigh  the  whole  of  the  be- 
haviour of  some  animals  conforms  strictly 
to  this  type.  The  best  examples  of  lives 
governed  wholly  by  instinct  are  provided  by 
some  of  the  insects,  which,  emerging  from 
the  chrysalis  with  all  their  organs  and  capaci- 
ties fully  developed,  straightway  perform  a 
single  cycle  of  highly  complex  purposive 
actions,  and  die.  The  structure  of  the  mind 
of  such  an  animal  must  be  conceived  as  con- 
sisting of  a  limited  number  of  innate  cognitive 
dispositions,  each  linked  with  a  conative 
disposition;  and  the  maintenance  of  the 
single  cycle  of  activities,  which  compose  the 
life  history  of  the  adult  creature,  depends  on 
the  fact  that  the  exercise  of  each  conative 


162  PSYCHOLOGY 

disposition  produces  a  situation  which  excites 
another  cognitive  disposition,  which  in  turn 
sets  to  work  another  conative  disposition, 
and  so  on,  until  the  cycle  is  completed.  Such, 
for  example,  is  the  behaviour  of  an  insect 
which,  after  hatching  out,  flies  about  until  it 
encounters  a  certain  flower,  settles  upon  it, 
and,  by  an  series  of  precise  manipulations  of 
its  parts,  deposits  its  eggs  among  the  ovules  of 
the  flower,  that  is,  in  the  one  situation  hi  all 
the  world  in  which  the  eggs  can  develop. 

But  most  of  the  animals  perform  their 
instinctive  actions  more  than  once  in  the 
course  of  their  lives;  and,  when  any  such 
action  is  repeated  many  times,  we  can  gener- 
ally observe  that  the  nature  of  the  activity 
becomes  modified  in  accordance  with  ex- 
perience, modified,  that  is,  in  such  a  way  as 
to  subserve  the  life  of  the  individual  or  of  the 
race  more  perfectly.  The  modifications  are 
of  three  kinds.  First,  the  animal  may  learn  to 
react  more  discriminatingly  to  objects  of  the 
class  which  evokes  the  instinctive  reaction: 
for  example,  a  bird,  which  at  first  instinc- 
tively pursues  all  butterflies,  learns,  through 
experience  of  the  nauseous  taste  of  one  species, 
to  refrain  from  pursuing  members  of  that 
species  and  of  all  others  which  have  similar 
markings;  or  again,  a  young  lamb  instinc- 


STUDY  OF  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR     163 

lively  follows  any  large  moving  object,  but 
shortly  learns  to  react  in  this  way  to  sheep 
only;  and  later  he  learns  to  discriminate  his 
dam  from  other  sheep  and  to  follow  her  only. 
In  all  such  cases  we  have  to  infer  that  the 
innate  cognitive  disposition  has  undergone 
further  differentiation  through  experiences  of 
success  and  failure,  pleasure  and  pain. 

Secondly,  the  animal  may  learn  to  react 
with  one  of  its  instinctive  modes  of  behaviour 
to  an  object  of  a  kind  towards  which  it  at 
first  remained  indifferent.  Abundant  illus- 
trations of  this  mode  of  adaptation  of  in- 
stinctive behaviour  are  provided  by  instances 
in  which  animals  learn  to  devour  objects  other 
than  those  which  they  instinctively  seek.  The 
tiger,  for  example,  does  not  instinctively  prey 
upon  man;  but  if,  driven  on  by  scarcity  of 
food  and  consequent  extreme  hunger,  he  has 
once  attacked  and  devoured  a  man,  men 
henceforth  are  objects  that  excite  his  preda- 
tory impulse.  Or  again,  a  young  dog  does  not 
instinctively  flee  hi  fear  from  a  boy;  but  if 
once,  or  on  several  occasions,  he  has  been 
tormented  by  a  gang  of  boys,  he  may  after- 
wards flee  from  all  boys:  the  mere  appearance 
of  any  boy  may  suffice  to  evoke  the  impulse 
of  fear  and  its  characteristic  bodily  expression. 
We  have  to  suppose  that  in  such  cases  a 


164  PSYCHOLOGY 

conative  disposition  becomes  linked  with  a 
cognitive  disposition  with  which  it  was  not 
innately  connected. 

The  third  type  of  modification  of  instinctive 
behaviour  consists  in  a  modification  of  the 
bodily  activities  that  are  directed  upon  the 
object  of  the  instinct.  This  is  seldom  ex- 
emplified except  in  conjunction  with  modifi- 
cation of  one  or  other  of  the  preceding  types, 
or  under  the  teaching  of  man.  When  seagulls 
learn  to  follow  a  ship  and  to  snatch  up  pieces 
of  food  thrown  overboard,  or  to  follow  the 
plough  and  feed  on  worms  and  grubs,  we 
have  an  instance  of  modification  of  the 
mixed  type;  and  some  of  the  tricks  learnt 
by  animals,  such  as  the  pushing  up  of  a  latch, 
provide  examples  of  predominantly  motor 
adaptation.  Such  modification  of  any  purely 
instinctive  mode  of  bodily  movement  im- 
plies differentiation  of  the  innate  conative 
disposition  comprised  in  the  instinct. 

When  the  behaviour  of  an  animal  exhibits 
modification  of  a  purely  instinctive  mode  of 
behaviour  of  any  one  of  these  three  kinds,  we 
say  that  it  has  profited  by  experience  and  be- 
haves intelligently.  All  animal  behaviour  is, 
then,  either  purely  instinctive  or  intelligent; 
and,  when  we  say  intelligent,  we  mean  that 
it  is  such  as  implies  some  degree  of  modifica- 


tion  of  the  innate  structure  of  the  mind 
through  experience  of  success  or  failure, 
pleasure  or  pain,  in  the  course  of  purposive 
activity.  Intelligent  behaviour  thus  always 
involves  modification  of  instinctive  modes  of 
behaviour,  and  intelligence  presupposes  in- 
stinct: for,  unless  a  creature  possessed  in- 
stincts of  some  kind,  all  basis  for  the  play  of 
intelligence  would  be  lacking,  there  would 
be  no  tendencies  to  be  modified;  and  modifi- 
cation of  pre-existing  tendencies  is  the  essence 
of  intelligent  activity. 

This,  then,  is  the  relation  of  intelligence 
to  instinct  in  the  animal  world;  each  animal 
is  natively  endowed  with  certain  instincts 
which  lead  it  to  react  in  specific  ways  to  cer- 
tain situations  or  objects  of  its  environment; 
in  the  course  of  the  striving  to  which  it  is  thus 
prompted,  it  may  learn  to  modify  its  bodily 
movements,  to  discriminate  more  nicely  be- 
tween the  objects  which  yield  more  or  less 
of  satisfaction  to  its  impulses,  or  directly  to 
respond  with  specifically  directed  impulses  to 
objects  which  do  not  normally  evoke  them 
prior  to  such  modification;  and  in  proportion 
as  an  animal  effects  much  or  little  of  such 
adaptive  modification  of  its  instincts,  we  say 
that  it  exhibits  much  or  little  intelligence. 

Now  the  higher  animals,   that  is,   those 


166  PSYCHOLOGY 

whose  behaviour  exhibits  the  greatest  com- 
plexity and  nicety  of  adjustment  to  a  variety 
of  situations,  fall  into  two  great  classes; 
namely,  the  class  in  which  behaviour  is  pre- 
dominantly instinctive,  in  which  the  modifi- 
cations of  the  innate  tendencies  are  relatively 
few  and  slight,  but  in  which  these  innate 
tendencies  are  themselves  very  complex  and 
highly  specialized;  and,  secondly,  the  class  in 
which  the  instinctive  tendencies  are  of  low 
degree  of  specialization,  but  become  greatly 
modified  and  specialized  in  various  ways  in  the 
course  of  the  individual's  experience.  The 
former  class  is  best  represented  by  the  higher 
insects;  the  second  by  the  higher  vertebrate 
animals,  especially  the  mammals. 

It  is  as  though  Nature  had  tried  two 
different  plans  for  securing  the  nice  adjust- 
ment of  her  children's  behaviour.  The  one 
plan  is  to  provide  in  the  innate  mental  struc- 
ture of  each  animal  as  complete  as  possible  a 
system  of  highly  specialized  instincts,  which 
shall  fit  the  creature  so  fully  for  its  special 
environment  that  it  has  little  need  to  modify 
in  any  way  its  instinctive  modes  of  behaviour 
in  order  to  thrive  and  propagate  its  kind. 
This  is  the  plan  usually  realized  in  those 
creatures  which,  like  most  of  the  insects,  are 
launched  full-grown  to  lead  an  independent 


STUDY  OF  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR     167 

life  of  active  movement;  for,  if  such  creatures 
had  to  learn  to  modify  extensively  their  in- 
nate modes  of  behaviour  in  order  to  cope 
effectively  with  their  environment,  most  of 
them  would  inevitably  perish  before  they 
had  achieved  this  task. 

The  other  plan  is  to  provide  in  the  innate 
mental  structure  of  each  animal  a  number  of 
very  general  instincts,  that  is,  instincts  of 
which  both  the  cognitive  and  the  conative 
parts  are  but  little  specialized,  so  that  the 
creature  reacts  in  a  few  highly  general  ways 
to  a  corresponding  number  of  large  classes 
of  objects;  and  to  supplement  these  instincts 
with  a  large  capacity  for  intelligent  adaptation 
of  behaviour,  through  the  exercise  of  which 
the  innate  dispositions  may  become  special- 
ized and  differentiated  to  cope  with  a  large 
variety  of  objects  and  circumstances.  It  is  a 
necessary  part  of  this  plan  that  the  young 
animal  shall  not,  during  the  first  period  of  its 
active  life,  be  dependent  altogether  upon  its 
own  efforts;  for  its  highly  general  instincts 
would  hardly  suffice  to  maintain  it  alive  un- 
aided. Rather  it  must  enjoy  a  period  of 
sheltered  life,  during  which  it  may  acquire, 
through  experience,  such  specializations  of  its 
innate  mental  structure  as  are  necessary  for 
independent  existence.  This  period  of  pro- 


168  PSYCHOLOGY 

tected  immaturity  Nature  provides  by  devel- 
oping in  the  species  the  parental  instinct, 
which  leads  the  adults  of  each  generation  to 
feed,  protect,  and  shelter  their  young,  while 
these  add  to  their  highly  general  innate  knowl- 
edge a  sufficient  store  of  acquired  knowledge. 

We  use  here  the  term  "innate  knowledge" 
in  referring  to  all  that  part  of  the  structure  of 
the  mind  which  is  inherited,  in  order  to  mark 
the  view  that  it  is  of  essentially  the  same 
nature  as  what  we  call  acquired  knowledge; 
and  this  is  in  conformity  with  general  usage, 
for  by  knowledge  we  mean  the  capacity  to 
think  and  act  in  certain  ways.  We  say  that 
a  person  knows  how  to  swim  or  to  shoot,  as 
well  as  that  he  knows  the  multiplication  table, 
the  French  language,  or  the  principles  of 
chemistry;  and  we  say  with  equal  propriety 
that  the  bee  knows  how  to  build  the  honey- 
comb, that  the  squirrel  knows  how  to  find 
and  to  open  nuts,  that  the  spider  knows  how 
to  repair  her  web,  or  that  the  bird  knows 
its  own  nest;  for  in  each  case,  whether  the 
knowledge  be  innate  or  acquired,  its  posess- 
sion  consists  in  the  presence  of  more  or  less 
specialized  dispositions  appropriately  related 
to  the  rest  of  the  structure  of  the  mind. 

When  we  compare  these  two  great  plans 
according  to  which  adjustment  of  behaviour 


STUDY  OF  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR      169 

is  secured,  it  seems  obvious  that  the  second 
offers  the  greater  possibilities.  Upon  the 
former  plan,  the  more  highly  specialized  are 
the  instincts  of  any  creature  and  the  more 
perfectly  they  are  organized  at  the  moment  it 
enters  upon  its  life  of  free  activity,  the  less 
chance  has  it  of  acquiring  new  knowledge  or 
of  further  elaborating  in  any  way  the  structure 
of  its  mind;  for  the  highly  specialized  in- 
stincts, coming  at  once  into  operation,  become 
set  or  confirmed  by  use;  and  the  creature  is 
thenceforward  condemned  to  a  life  of  routine 
repetition  of  its  purely  instinctive  modes  of 
behaviour. 

The  second  plan,  on  the  other  hand,  seems 
to  offer  a  prospect  of  unlimited  possibilities 
of  individual  mental  development;  for  the 
less  specialized  are  the  instincts  and  the  more 
prolonged  the  period  of  youth  or  protected 
immaturity,  the  more  opportunity  has  each 
individual  of  further  elaborating  the  struc- 
ture of  his  mind  by  his  own  efforts.  This 
second  plan  inevitably  brings  a  further  very 
great  advantage  to  the  species  among  which 
it  obtains;  namely,  it  enables  the  acquired 
knowledge  or  experience  of  each  generation 
to  be  in  some  degree  handed  on  to  the  next; 
that  is  to  say,  it  introduces  the  principle  of 
tradition.  For  the  young  animals,  remaining 


170  PSYCHOLOGY 

under  the  care  of  their  parents,  inevitably 
profit  in  some  degree  by  imitating  their 
behaviour:  whereas,  under  the  other  plan, 
the  parent,  having  deposited  the  egg,  is  no 
more  concerned  for  its  welfare;  and  the  young, 
therefore,  never  enjoy  the  companionship 
of  their  parents,  and  have  no  opportunity  of 
imitating  them. 

The  simplest  way  in  which  the  young 
take  to  themselves  knowledge  acquired  by 
their  parents,  is  to  follow  them  about  and 
thus  to  learn  where  best  to  find  food  and 
shelter.  But  the  possibilities  of  advantage 
from  imitation  are  so  great  that  special 
adaptations  of  innate  mental  structure  have 
been  evolved  in  many  species,  in  order 
that  these  advantages  may  be  more  fully 
secured.  The  typical  and  most  obvious  and, 
perhaps,  the  simplest  example  of  such  special 
innate  provision  for  securing  to  each  genera- 
tion the  fuller  benefits  of  family  and  social 
life,  is  the  development  of  a  special  cog- 
nitive disposition  for  the  perception  of  the 
expressions  of  fear  made  by  other  members 
of  the  species,  and  its  innate  linkage  with  the 
conative  disposition  in  which  the  impulse  of 
fear  arises.  In  virtue  of  such  a  special  devel- 
opment of  the  cognitive  side  of  this  instinct, 
the  young  bird  crouches  motionless  or  runs  to 


STUDY  OF  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR     171 

shelter  when  the  parent  emits  a  cry  of  fear; 
the  young  rabbit  runs  to  earth  when  its 
mother's  white  tail  bobs  before  it;  and  among 
the  gregarious  mammals  similar  signals  recall 
the  young  to  the  herd,  as  it  prepares  for 
collective  flight  or  defence.  The  frequency 
among  the  higher  animals  of  recognition- 
marks  (of  which  the  white  underside  of  the 
rabbit's  tail  is  a  simple  example)  affords  some 
indication  of  the  importance  of  this  principle. 
But  among  the  higher  animals  the  part 
played  by  tradition,  through  imitation  of  the 
old  by  the  young,  goes  far  beyond  these  simple 
modes;  thus  the  forms  of  the  nests  and  of  the 
songs  of  many  birds  seem  to  be  only  in 
part  instinctively  determined  and  in  part 
traditionally. 

If  now  we  apply  all  the  foregoing  prin- 
ciples of  animal  behaviour  to  the  elucidation 
of  the  relation  of  the  human  to  the  animal 
mind,  the  human  mind  appears  as  the  product 
of  an  extreme  evolution  according  to  the 
second  of  the  two  great  plans  of  mental 
organization.  The  human  being  necessarily 
inherits  certain  instincts;  for  without  these  he 
would  lack  all  means  of  setting  to  work  on 
his  task  of  building  up  the  immense  mass  of 
acquired  knowledge  that  he  needs:  that  is 
to  say,  if  he  were  not  provided  by  heredity 


172  PSYCHOLOGY 

with  some  cognitive  and  conative  dispositions, 
and  if  certain  of  these  were  not  innately 
linked,  there  would  be  no  means  of  setting 
his  mental  faculties  to  work.  But  his  acquisi- 
tion of  knowledge  is  rapid  and  extensive;  for 
his  conditions  are  very  favourable  to  such 
acquisition.  First,  the  instincts  he  inherits 
are  of  the  most  highly  general  type  on  both 
their  cognitive  and  conative  sides;  they 
merely  provide  a  basis  for  vaguely  directed 
activities  in  response  to  vaguely  discriminated 
impressions  from  large  classes  of  objects. 
Secondly,  the  duration  of  his  immaturity  and 
the  period  of  parental  protection  are  very 
greatly  prolonged;  for,  whereas  the  youth  of 
the  more  intelligent  animals  lasts  only  some 
months,  or,  at  the  most,  a  very  few  years,  as 
in  the  families  of  the  elephants  and  man-like 
apes,  human  beings  enjoy  immaturity  and 
parental  protection  during  nearly  a  score  of 
years.  Thirdly,  the  possibilities  of  profiting 
by  tradition  are  immensely  increased  for  man 
by  his  power  of  speech;  for  language  enables 
each  generation  to  hand  on  to  its  successor  a 
vastly  greater  store  of  acquired  knowledge 
than  can  be  transmitted  in  any  other  way; 
and,  of  course,  the  invention  of  writing  has 
again  immensely  increased  the  possible  mass 
of  traditional  knowledge.  These  three  favour- 


STUDY  OF  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR     173 

able  conditions  of  development  of  the  human 
mind  go  far  to  explain  how  it  attains  so  vast 
a  superiority  to  that  of  the  highest  animal. 

The  study  of  animal  behaviour,  besides 
throwing  light  on  the  general  nature  of  the  in- 
nate basis  of  the  human  mind  and  on  the 
general  conditions  of  its  development  in  the 
individual,  helps  us  to  elucidate  its  innate 
basis  in  detail,  in  that  it  affords  us  guidance 
when  we  seek  to  define  the  human  instincts. 
For  it  becomes  clear  that,  as  the  theory  of 
continuous  evolution  demands,  the  human 
mind  is  endowed  with  a  number  of  instincts 
which  are  very  similar  to  some  found  in  the 
higher  animals,  for  example,  the  instincts  of 
fear,  of  sex,  and  of  pugnacity.  While  these 
are  displayed  in  simple  and  unmistakable 
forms  of  behaviour  among  the  animals,  their 
operation  in  human  beings  is  so  largely 
modified  and  obscured  by  acquired  modifica- 
tions and  the  power  of  self-conscious  control, 
that  without  the  analogy  presented  by  animal 
behaviour  the  task  of  defining  the  human 
instincts  would  be  one  of  extreme  difficulty. 

The  third  way,  we  said,  in  which  the  study 
of  animal  behaviour  illuminates  the  central 
problems  of  psychology  is  to  show  us  the 
general  nature  and  course  of  the  evolution 
of  which  the  human  mind  is  the  supreme 


174  PSYCHOLOGY 

achievement.  We  must  pass  over  this  great 
topic  with  a  very  few  words. 

We  have  already  seen  how  the  process  of 
evolution  has  produced  in  its  higher  stages 
two  great  divergent  types  of  mental  structure; 
one  of  the  two  great  lines  of  progress  seems  to 
have  culminated  in  the  higher  insects,  the 
other  and  more  successful  line  has  produced 
man.  Now,  when  we  contemplate  the  behav- 
iour of  animals,  representing  both  of  these 
divergent  lines  of  evolution,  and  that  of  the 
more  lowly  creatures,  representing  the  com- 
mon stem  from  which  the  lines  diverge,  we  are 
led  to  see  the  unity  of  type  of  all  animal 
behaviour;  for  we  note  everywhere,  as  its 
characteristic  marks,  purposiveness,  selectiv- 
ity, and  adaptation  through  experience.  We 
are  thus  led  to  recognize  the  same  fundamen- 
tal mental  faculties  as  operative  at  all  levels  of 
the  evolutionary  scale,  but  operating  with 
very  different  degrees  of  efficiency  according 
to  the  degree  of  development  of  mental  struc- 
ture. In  this  way  we  reach  the  conclusion 
that  mental  evolution  has  been  essentially  a 
continuous  evolution  of  mental  structure, 
rather  than  a  process  marked  at  various  levels 
by  the  sudden  irruption  of  new  faculties. 

Another  important  truth,  brought  home  to 
us  by  this  lmekof  study,  is  that  progressive 


STUDY  OF  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR     175 

evolution  has  been  primarily  an  evolution 
of  mental  structure  and  only  secondarily  one 
of  bodily  structure.  For  everywhere  we  find 
the  bodily  structure  adapting  itself  to  the 
mode  of  life  and  environment  of  the  animal. 
When  the  mammal  takes  to  seeking  its  food 
in  the  water,  it  acquires  many  of  the  bodily 
peculiarities  of  a  fish,  becoming  a  whale 
or  a  porpoise;  when  the  reptile  or  the  mam- 
mal learns  to  seek  its  prey  in  the  air,  its  bodily 
structure  approximates  to  that  of  a  bird; 
when  the  water-breather  learns  to  come  on  to 
the  land,  he  loses  his  gills  and  acquires  lungs; 
and  so  in  thousands  of  cases:  the  change  of 
mode  of  life  or  of  behaviour  leads  to  change 
of  bodily  structure.  But  the  change  of  be- 
haviour is  the  expression  of  a  change  of  men- 
tal structure.  Other  changes  of  habitat  and 
consequent  changes  of  bodily  structure,  col- 
our, and  so  forth,  conform  to  the  same  prin- 
ciple: either  the  species  is  forced  into  a  new 
habitat,  or,  owing  to  some  change  in  its 
mental  constitution, seeks  a  new  environment; 
and  in  both  cases  the  individuals  of  each  gen- 
eration adapt  their  behaviour  as  best  they 
can  to  the  new  environment,  while  the  bodily 
structure  gradually  follows  suit.  Thus,  men- 
tal evolution  leads  the  way,  and  evolution 
of  bodily  structure  is  in  the  main  the  conse- 


176  PSYCHOLOGY 

quence  of  it;  and  this  remains  true,  no  matter 
what  theory  of  the  conditions  of  evolution  we 
adopt. 

Unlike  Darwin,  most  of  the  biologists  of  the 
present  day  leave  the  mental  powers  out  of 
account  altogether,  when  they  seek  to  account 
for  biological  evolution;  but  if  it  is  primarily 
a  mental  evolution  this  procedure  is  doomed 
to  failure.  And  the  hopelessness  of  such 
mindless  biology  may  be  deduced  in  another 
way.  Evolution,  so  far  as  we  can  at  present 
see,  has  been  brought  about  either  through 
the  transmission  from  one  generation  to 
another  of  the  structural  effects  cf  the  efforts 
of  creatures  at  more  complete  adaptation  to 
their  environment;  or  by  the  natural  selec- 
tion of  the  so-called  spontaneous  variations, 
in  the  course  of  the  unremitting  struggle  for 
existence  to  which  we  all,  men  and  animals 
alike,  are  committed;  or,  more  probably,  by 
both  processes.  In  either  case  the  work  of 
the  mind  has  been  an  all-important  condition 
of  such  evolution;  for,  even  if  natural  selec- 
tion of  spontaneous  variations  has  been  the 
sole  method  of  evolution,  such  selection  was 
only  rendered  possible  by  the  struggling  for 
existence,  that  is,  by  the  sustained  purposive 
efforts  of  the  animals  to  maintain  their  own 
lives  and  to  propagate  their  species.  Animal 


STUDY  OF  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR     177 

evolution,  that  is  to  say,  however  it  may  have 
been  with  plant  evolution,  has  been  the 
product  of  the  struggles  of  the  animal,  of 
their  purposive  efforts  to  survive;  for  the 
factor  determining  survival  or  destruction  in 
chief  measure  has  always  been  success  or 
failure  of  the  purposive  activity  of  the  animal; 
to  this  all  other  factors  have  been  subordinate. 
Thus  the  main  stress,  the  brunt  of  the  work 
of  evolution,  has  been  borne  by  the  mind;  the 
mind  has  been  the  pioneer  of  bodily  evolu- 
tion; the  bodily  organs  and  functions  have 
been  merely  the  instruments  through  which 
the  mind  has  accomplished  its  purposes. 

We  see,  then,  how  distorted  is  any  view 
of  the  evolutionary  process  which  represents 
mind  as  a  mere  bye-product  of  its  later  stages; 
first  coming  into  being,  when  the  physical 
processes  within  the  nervous  systems  of 
animals  reached  a  certain  degree  of  com- 
plexity. Yet  that  is  a  view  of  mental  evolu- 
tion which  has  been  widely  entertained. 

Before  leaving  this  topic,  it  must  be  pointed 
out  that  in  the  study  of  animal  behaviour 
lies  our  best,  perhaps  our  only,  hope  of 
answering  the  question — Are  acquired  char- 
acters transmitted?  Are  the  adaptations  of 
behaviour  and  the  consequent  modifications 
of  structure  (bodily  or  mental)  achieved  by 


178  PSYCHOLOGY 

the  efforts  of  individuals,  transmitted  in  any 
degree  to  their  progeny?  This  is  the  most 
urgent  and  practically  important  biological 
problem,  perhaps  the  most  important  of  all 
problems,  a  definite  answer  to  which  we  may 
confidently  hope  to  obtain  by  the  methods  of 
empirical  science. 

Biologists  have  been  divided  into  two 
acutely  opposed  parties  by  this  question, 
ever  since  doubt  was  thrown  on  such  trans- 
mission; the  majority  denying  it  dogmati- 
cally, a  strong  minority  as  confidently  affirm- 
ing it.  So  long  as  we  have  no  positive  answer 
to  this  question,  there  can  be  no  progress  made 
with  many  of  the  major  problems  of  biology 
and  of  sociology,  and  a  wise  decision  on  some 
of  the  most  far-reaching  legislative  and  ad- 
ministrative problems  is  wholly  impossible. 
For  example,  the  solution  of  the  eugenic 
problem,  the  practical  problem  of  promoting 
the  progress  of  the  human  race,  or  of  any 
section  of  it,  or  of  preventing  its  deterioration, 
hangs  upon  the  answer  to  this  question.  It 
is  difficult  for  us  to  view  this  problem  dis- 
passionately in  relation  to  ourselves;  let  us, 
therefore,  consider  it  for  a  moment  in  relation 
to  the  negro  race,  in  order  to  bring  home  to 
our  minds  its  vast  importance.  It  seems 
indisputable  that  the  negro  race  is,  in  certain 


STUDY  OF  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR      179 

respects,  at  a  lower  level  of  mental  evolution 
than  the  white  race;  now,  if  acquired  charac- 
ters are  transmitted,  even  in  a  very  slight 
degree  only,  we  may  reasonably  hope  that, 
after  the  negro  race  shall  have  been  subjected 
to  the  better  influences  of  civilization  for  a 
number  of  generations,  it  will  be  raised  to  a 
higher  level  of  innate  intellectual  and  moral 
capacity.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  acquired 
characters  are  not  in  any  degree  transmitted, 
as  the  majority  of  biologists  assert,  then  there 
is  no  hope  that  the  civilization  and  educa- 
tion of  the  negro  peoples,  no  matter  how 
wisely  and  beneficently  the  work  may  be 
directed,  will  of  themselves  raise  them  to  a 
higher  level  of  innate  capacity.  It  is  clear, 
then,  that  our  hopes  and  our  practical  policy 
in  relation  to  the  negro  race  (and  to  all 
other  races  of  mankind)  must  be  profoundly 
affected  by  the  establishment  of  the  true 
answer  to  this  question. 

For  a  whole  generation  at  least  this  question 
has  been  pressing  for  an  answer,  and  no 
progress  has  been  made  with  it.  Yet  if  a 
tenth,  or  even  a  hundredth,  part  of  the  money 
which  is  devoted  to  research  in  physical 
science,  in  order  to  add  to  our  material  com- 
forts and  conveniences,  could  be  diverted  to 
promote  the  study  of  animal  behaviour,  this 


180  PSYCHOLOGY 

problem  could  be  rapidly  solved.  For  there 
is  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  answer  to 
it  which  is  true  of  the  animals  is  true  also 
of  man. 

CHAPTER  VI 

THE   STUDY   OF    CHILDHOOD 

WE  have  seen  in  a  previous  chapter  that 
the  experimental  methods  of  observation  are 
being  applied  to  a  great  variety  of  psycho- 
logical problems,  and  to  none  more  energeti- 
cally than  to  those  which  are  of  immediate 
importance  from  the  educational  point  of 
view.  Many  of  these  experimental  observa- 
tions are  made  by  and  upon  children,  espe- 
cially such  experiments  as  can  be  carried  on 
collectively  with  a  considerable  group  of 
subjects.  Much  of  the  work  of  this  sort  has 
been  directed  to  the  elucidation  of  very  spe- 
cial problems.  But  the  study  of  children  has 
also  its  bearings  on  the  wider  and  more  gen- 
eral problems  of  the  mind  and  its  develop- 
ment. It  has  been  rendered  far  more  fruitful 
of  results  than  it  otherwise  could  have  been 
by  the  light  thrown  by  the  theory  of  organic 
evolution  and  by  the  principle  of  recapitula- 
tion— the  principle,  namely,  that  in  the  course 
of  his  development  each  individual  recapitu- 


THE  STUDY  OF  CHILDHOOD      181 

lates  or  retraces,  however  roughly  and  imper- 
fectly, the  steps  by  which  his  species  was 
evolved.  In  the  light  of  this  theory  and  of 
this  principle,  it  has  become  obvious  that  the 
development  of  the  mind  of  the  child,  far  from 
being  a  mere  moulding  of  it  by  the  impres- 
sions rained  upon  it  by  its  environment,  is 
itself  a  process  of  evolution  in  the  proper 
sense  of  the  word,  an  unfolding  of  latent 
potentialities.  In  other  words,  we  have  learnt 
that,  though  education  may  do  much,  hered- 
ity is  all-important;  and  that  education  can 
but  refine,  perfect,  or  restrain  the  native 
tendencies  of  the  mind.  The  greatest  prob- 
lem for  the  solution  of  which  we  have  to 
rely  largely  on  the  study  of  children  may, 
then,  be  stated  as  follows: — What  is  the 
nature  of  the  mental  inheritance  of  the  normal 
man?  What  powers,  faculties,  tendencies,  or 
mental  structures,  does  he  inherit?  What  is 
the  natural  order  or  sequence  of  their  evolu- 
tion? The  importance,  both  practical  and 
theoretical,  of  finding  the  answers  to  these 
questions,  is  equalled  by  the  difficulty  of  the 
task. 

A  part  of  the  mental  inheritance  of  the 
normal  man  can  be  roughly  defined  with  some 
confidence,  and  the  natural  order  of  its  evolu- 
tion can  be  stated  in  general  terms.  This  part 


182  PSYCHOLOGY 

consists  of  the  human  instincts.  These,  as  in 
other  animal  species,  seem  to  be  common  to 
the  whole  human  race.  The  recognition  of 
their  presence  and  of  their  several  natures  is 
rendered  difficult,  first,  by  their  highly  general 
character;  secondly,  by  the  fact  that  most  of 
them  mature,  or  come  into  operation,  only 
when  the  individual  has  made  some  consider- 
able intellectual  progress;  thirdly,  by  the 
great  development  in  man  of  the  power  of 
control  and  modification  of  the  instinctive 
tendencies,  or,  in  other  words,  by  the  complex 
interaction  of  the  conative  tendencies  which 
results  from  the  high  complexity  of  the  men- 
tal organization.  The  main  phases  of  the 
development  of  the  child  are  determined  by 
the  successive  ripening  of  these  instincts.  The 
one  which  generally  produces  the  prof  oundest 
effects — effects  which  make  themselves  felt 
throughout  well-nigh  the  whole  of  the  mental 
life — is  the  sex  instinct.  Whether  this  is 
normally  operative  in  any  degree  before  the 
onset  of  puberty  is  an  obscure  question  on 
which  opinions  differ  widely;  but  it  is  clear 
that  it  either  first  comes  into  operation  at 
puberty,  or  becomes  much  more  powerfully 
operative  at  that  time;  and  it  is  clear  also 
that  the  profound  bodily  and  mental  changes 
which  characterize  that  period  of  life  are 


THE  STUDY  OF  CHILDHOOD      183 

largely  due  to  its  evolution.  The  very  great 
influence  upon  the  course  of  mental  life  which 
is  often  exercised  by  it,  is  due  not  only  to  the 
great  strength  of  the  impulse  to  which  its 
excitement  gives  rise,  but  also  to  the  fact  that 
it  begins  to  exert  its  strong  influence  at  a  time 
when  the  rest  of  the  mind  has  attained  a 
high  level  of  development,  when  self-con- 
sciousness has  already  become  highly  elab- 
orated, and  when  the  individual  has  already 
formed  a  complex  system  of  sentiments  and 
habits  and  has  entered  into  a  complex  system 
of  social  relations;  for  the  awakening  of  this 
new  impulse,  however  blind  it  may  remain, 
necessitates  profound  readjustments  of  all 
these  acquisitions,  and  affects  profoundly 
many  judgments  of  value  and  many  emo- 
tional attitudes.  For  these  reasons  the  period 
of  puberty  is  of  critical  importance,  and  the 
study  and  understanding  of  it  are  an  impera- 
tive necessity  to  the  educator.  But  this 
instinct  is  only  first  in  strength  and  influence 
among  others;  and  the  obvious  importance  of 
the  study  of  it  serves  to  make  us  appreciate 
the  need  for  the  definition  and  understanding 
of  other  powerful  instincts,  and  of  the  course 
of  then*  evolution  in  the  human  being. 

When  we  turn  to  ask — What  besides  the 
instincts  is  comprised  in  the  innate  constitu- 


184  PSYCHOLOGY 

tion  of  the  human  mind?  we  find  the  widest 
divergences  of  opinion  and  the  greatest  diffi- 
culty in  returning  any  answer.  What  we 
have  called  the  mental  faculties  are,  of  course, 
inherited.  But  does  the  inheritance  include 
anything  more  than  these  and  the  instincts? 
If  we  are  right  in  saying  that  any  mind  can  be 
wholly  described  in  terms  of  its  faculties  and 
its  structure,  we  may  put  the  question  in  the 
following  form: — Does  the  native  basis  of 
the  mind  comprise  any  dispositions  in  addition 
to  those  which  enter  into  the  composition  of 
the  instincts;  and,  if  so,  to  what  extent  are 
they  systematically  linked  together? 

We  cannot  answer  this  question  with  a 
negative.  There  is  certainly  much  beside 
the  faculties  and  the  instincts  comprised  in 
the  native  basis  of  each  human  mind.  If 
there  were  not,  it  would  be  impossible  ade- 
quately to  account  for  the  vast  superiority  of 
the  mind  of  the  human  adult  to  that  of  the 
highest  of  the  animals.  Some  of  those  who 
regard  the  mind  purely  from  the  physiological 
standpoint,  and  who  believe  that  all  we 
have  called  the  structure  of  the  mind  can  be 
adequately  described  in  terms  of  the  organ- 
ized structure  of  the  brain,  take  the  view  that 
the  superiority  of  the  native  endowment  of 
man  consists  chiefly  or  wholly  in  the  presence 


THE  STUDY  OF  CHILDHOOD      185 

in  the  brain  of  the  infant  of  a  great  mass  of 
unorganized  nervous  tissue,  which  offers  un- 
limited possibilities  of  progressive  organiza- 
tion. But,  even  if  we  accepted  the  assump- 
tion that  the  structure  of  the  mind  can  be 
wholly  described  in  terms  of  nervous  disposi- 
tions and  their  connections,  we  could  not 
accept  the  view  that  nothing  of  the  mental 
organization  beyond  the  instincts  is  innate. 

We  have  to  recognize  that  the  greater  part 
of  what  we  have  called  the  logical  structure 
of  the  mind  is  innately  given;  that  is  to 
say,  that  there  are  given  the  principal  great 
cognitive  systems,  by  means  of  which  we 
implicitly  think  the  most  general  properties 
and  relations  of  things,  in  thinking  of  particu- 
lar objects.  No  direct  proof  of  the  truth  of 
this  view  can  be  offered;  but  in  support  of  it 
the  following  considerations  maybe  advanced. 

The  fact  that  the  human  mind  develops 
so  far  beyond  the  highest  animal  mind  can- 
not be  wholly  accounted  for  by  the  more 
favourable  conditions  of  its  development; 
of  which,  as  we  have  seen,  the  highly  general 
character  of  its  instincts,  prolonged  youth, 
and  the  use  of  language  as  the  instrument  of 
communication  and  tradition,  are  the  chief. 
If  the  superiority  resulted  from  such  condi- 
tions merely,  it  should  be  possible,  by  careful 


186  PSYCHOLOGY 

training,  to  raise  the  mind  of  an  animal 
much  nearer  to  the  human  level  than  it  can 
actually  be  brought.  As  a  matter  of  fact  the 
most  favourable  conditions  and  the  most  care- 
ful training  bring  the  animal  mind  but  a  very 
little  part  of  the  way  towards  the  human  mind. 

Again,  the  behaviour  of  young  children 
affords  evidence  of  their  implicit  knowledge 
of  such  things  and  relations  as  space,  spatial 
relations,  thinghood,  causality,  at  a  time 
when  they  are  quite  incapable  of  explicitly 
thinking  of  such  objects,  and  when  they  can 
hardly  be  supposed  to  have  built  up  such 
knowledge  through  their  own  experience. 

But  perhaps  the  strongest  evidence  is 
afforded  by  the  inequalities  of  the  intellectual 
and  moral  development,  as  respects  both 
kind  and  degree,  of  children  placed  under 
similar  conditions  and  influences.  These  in- 
equalities are  much  greater  than  any  that 
could  be  attributed  to  favouring  or  retarding 
influences.  For  we  see  sometimes  a  child 
growing  up  under  the  most  unfavourable  con- 
ditions of  every  kind,  and  yet  rapidly  and 
easily  attaining  a  high  level  of  development; 
and  we  see  others  under  the  most  favourable 
conditions  remaining  stupid  and  of  low  moral 
level,  or  exhibiting  special  intellectual  defects 
or  moral  deformities. 


THE  STUDY  OF  CHILDHOOD      187 

Again,  among  those  children  who  develop 
exceptionally  high  powers,  we  commonly  find 
that  the  development  of  these  powers  cannot 
be  accounted  for  by  the  influences  of  their 
environments.  And  in  many  cases  it  is  ob- 
vious that  their  special  excellences  are  innate 
or  have  an  innate  basis;  for  the  same  pecu- 
liarities can  be  traced  in  their  ancestry  through 
several  generations;  they  are,  therefore, 
hereditary,  and  whatever  is  inherited  is  in- 
nate. The  most  striking  instances  are  those 
in  which  the  hereditary  peculiarity  takes  the 
form  of  excellence  (or  defect)  in  highly  spe- 
cial forms  of  mental  activity,  such  as  musical 
and  mathematical  talent;  but  similar  evi- 
dence of  highly  special  innate  powers  and 
tendencies  is  afforded  by  the  appearance  of 
numberless  family  traits,  idiosyncrasies  of 
thought  and  feeling,  and  special  mental  ex- 
cellences and  defects  of  many  kinds.  Perhaps 
the  most  striking  evidence  is  afforded  by  the 
study  of  twins,  who  sometimes,  even  though 
brought  up  under  very  different  influence??, 
exhibit  very  close  resemblances  of  intellect 
and  character.  In  short,  the  more  children 
are  studied  from  this  point  of  view,  the  more 
far-reaching  does  the  influence  of  heredity 
appear.  Now,  although  it  is  generally  impos- 
sible to  define  in  anything  but  the  roughest 


188  PSYCHOLOGY 

way  the  innate  bases  of  these  hereditary 
peculiarities,  we  seem  compelled  to  believe 
that  they  consist — in  large  part  at  least  —  in 
inherited  mental  structures  of  very  consider- 
able degrees  of  specialization. 

Here,  then,  is  an  immense  field  for  research, 
the  extent  and  importance  of  which  we  are 
only  just  beginning  to  realize.  And  it  is  a 
field  for  the  psychologist.  He  alone  can  hope 
to  define  the  problems  in  the  detailed  way 
which  is  the  necessary  presupposition  of 
fruitful  work  in  this  field.  This  is  sufficiently 
shown  by  the  few  attempts  made  to  enter  it 
by  biologists  and  statisticians  without  psy- 
chological preparation.  They  tend  to  work 
in  terms  of  the  confused  notions  and  crude 
distinctions  embodied  in  popular  speech;  they 
attempt  to  determine  the  inheritance  of  such 
questionable  entities  as  good  temper,  courage, 
conscientiousness,  or  popularity;  ignoring 
the  necessity  of  accurate  psychological  analy- 
sis of  the  constitution  of  the  mind  as  the  pre- 
liminary to  all  such  work. 

If  education,  properly  understood  and 
practised,  is  what  the  word  implies,  a  drawing 
out  of  the  native  powers  of  the  mind,  a  wise 
direction  and  control  of  the  process  of  spon- 
taneous development  of  innate  tendencies, 
surely,  when  every  civilized  nation  devotes 


THE  STUDY  OF  CHILDHOOD      189 

enormous  sums  of  money  and  the  self-sacri- 
ficing energy  of  many  thousands  of  teachers 
to  the  work  of  educating  its  children,  it  must 
be  worth  while  to  find  out  what  are  those 
innate  tendencies  and  what  is  their  normal 
course  of  development. 

Individual  Psychology 

Individual  Psychology  is  a  field  for  the 
application  of  the  knowledge  and  under- 
standing acquired  by  study  in  the  other  de- 
partments of  the  science,  rather  than  a  branch 
which  directly  contributes  towards  the  solu- 
tion of  its  general  problems.  Its  work  is  to 
define  the  peculiarities  of  mental  constitution 
which  render  the  behaviour  and  the  develop- 
ment of  each  individual  human  being  unique. 
Its  success  depends  upon  the  degree  of  prog- 
ress achieved  by  the  other  departments. 
For,  before  we  can  give  an  adequate  ac- 
count of  the  individual,  we  must  be  able  to 
describe  in  general  terms  the  innate  basis  of 
the  mind,  in  so  far  as  it  is  common  to  all  men; 
and  we  must  be  able  to  state  the  general 
principles  of  the  development  of  the  mind 
under  the  joint  influences  of  its  native  ten- 
dencies and  of  its  environment.  In  this  field 
psychology  comes  near  to  art;  for  biography, 
fiction,  and  drama  are  largely  concerned  with 


190  PSYCHOLOGY 

the  portrayal  of  the  intellectual  and  moral 
peculiarities  of  individuals. 

It  is  true  that  at  the  present  time  the  char- 
acter of  an  individual  may  be  more  effectively 
displayed  by  the  sympathetic  intuition  of  the 
artist,  than  by  the  application  of  the  rudi- 
ments of  psychological  science  that  have 
hitherto  been  built  up.  But,  as  psychology 
progresses,  it  will  more  and  more  aid  in  the 
accurate  delineation  of  individual  disposition 
and  temperament  and  character;  and  it  will 
enable  us,  not  only  to  portray,  but  also  to 
understand  and  explain  them  in  terms  of 
heredity  and  the  laws  of  mental  development. 

What  accurate  work  is  being  done  in  this 
field  mainly  takes  the  form  of  experimental 
determination  of  capacities  to  execute  definite 
tasks.  The  task  set  is  of  such  a  nature  that 
the  degree  of  excellence  attained  by  the 
subject  is  capable  of  being  accurately  stated 
in  terms  of  the  number  of  some  unit,  units  of 
rate,  or  of  repetition,  or  of  errors  committed. 
By  the  application  of  such  a  "mental  test"  to 
any  number  of  subjects  under  strictly  similar 
conditions,  the  subjects  may  be  placed  in  an 
order  of  merit  in  respect  of  excellence  in  the 
performance  of  the  task.  Now  it  is  perhaps 
not  possible  to  devise  tests  which  can  be 
regarded  as  testing  any  one  mental  function 


THE  STUDY  OF  CHILDHOOD      191 

purely.  It  might,  for  example,  seem  an  easy 
matter  to  devise  a  simple  test  for  memory. 
But,  whatever  form  of  test  is  applied,  at  least 
two  very  different  functions  are  involved,  and 
the  degree  of  excellence  of  each  perform- 
ance depends  on  both  of  them — namely,  the 
function  of  committing  to  memory,  and  the 
function  of  retaining  that  which  has  been 
committed.  In  a  similar  way  every  other 
simple  experiment  tests  not  a  single  function, 
but  a  complex  of  functions. 

Nevertheless  the  application  of  a  well- 
chosen  set  of  carefully  devised  tests  to  a  group 
of  subjects,  say  fifty  or  more  children  of  the 
same  age  and  school  experience,  is  capable 
of  throwing  much  light  upon  their  relative 
capacities;  and,  if  the  process  is  repeated  at 
intervals  of  six  months  or  a  year,  further  light 
upon  their  individual  peculiarities  is  obtained. 
Little  has  yet  been  done  in  this  direction;  but 
there  seems  to  be  no  reason  why  we  should 
not  ultimately  work  out  a  scheme  of  mental 
tests  which  will  allow  us  to  estimate  the 
intellectual  capacities  of  any  individual  with 
considerable  accuracy,  and  to  assign  him  his 
place  in  an  empirical  scale  of  capacity,  far 
more  accurately  than  can  be  done  by  any 
other  method  of  examination  yet  devised.  One 
great  advantage  of  such  a  method  of  estimat- 


192  PSYCHOLOGY 

ing  intellectual  capacity  over  our  ordinary 
examination  methods  is  that  it  should  enable 
us  to  distinguish  more  fully  the  respective 
shares  of  native  capacity  and  of  acquired  knowl- 
edge in  the  performances  of  any  individual. 
The  data  obtained  by  the  application  of 
mental  tests  may  be  made  to  yield  further 
conclusions  of  great  interest  by  the  mathe- 
matical treatment  of  them  according  to  the 
principle  of  correlation.  By  applying  this 
method  we  can  discover  what  kinds  of  excel- 
lences or  defects  commonly  go  together  in 
the  composition  of  the  human  mind.  For 
example,  we  take  the  two  lists  of  figures  repre- 
senting the  achievements  of  a  considerable 
group  of  subjects  under  two  different  tests, 
and  arrange  them  in  order  of  merit;  then,  if 
the  subjects  appear  approximately  in  the 
same  order  of  merit  in  the  two  lists,  we  may 
infer  that  the  functions  involved  in  the  two 
performances  are  correlated,  i.  e.  that  they 
tend  to  be  of  the  same  level  of  excellence  in 
the  same  subjects.  And  if  we  find  no  such 
correspondence  between  the  two  lists,  or  if 
we  find  an  inverted  correspondence,  those 
near  the  top  of  one  list  being  near  the  bottom 
of  the  other;  then  we  may  infer  that  there 
is  no  correlation,  or  a  negative  correlation, 
between  the  functions  involved. 


ABNORMAL  PSYCHOLOGY         193 

With  this  very  brief  indication  of  a  method 
of  investigation  which  not  only  promises 
great  things  for  Individual  Psychology,  but 
which  raises  also  the  prospect  of  effecting  ul- 
timately a  complete  objective  analysis  of  the 
mental  functions,  we  must  pass  on  to  our  next 
topic,  namely,  the  study  of  abnormal  mental 
processes. 

CHAPTER  VH 

ABNORMAL   PSYCHOLOGY 

ABNORMAL  psychology  offers  a  vast  and 
fascinating  and,  just  at  the  present  time,  a 
very  fruitful  field  of  research.  It  can  probably 
claim  a  much  larger  number  of  serious  stu- 
dents than  any  of  the  other  departments,  and  it 
excites  much  more  popular  interest  than  any 
of  them.  The  ordinary  man  is  so  accustomed 
to  the  ordinary  behaviour  of  normal  men  and 
to  his  own  habitual  modes  of  thinking,  that 
he  cannot  see  behind  them  any  problems  to 
be  solved.  The  notion  of  any  one  trying  to 
find  out  more  about  the  human  mind  than  he 
himself  knows,  generally  fills  him  with  im- 
patient scorn,  even  though  he  may  be  pre- 
pared to  tolerate  those  who  spend  their  lives 
in  classifying  beetles  or  minutely  describing 
the  skeletons  of  microscopic  animalcules. 


194  PSYCHOLOGY 

But,  when  one  meets  a  man  who  gravely  and 
persistently  asserts  that  his  conduct  is  con- 
stantly governed  by  the  voice  of  an  invisible 
being,  or  that  he  sees  beside  him  a  human  figure 
which  none  other  can  see,  or  that  he  is  the 
«mperor  of  the  world;  or  when  one  hears  of  a 
man  who  repeatedly  inflicts  painful  mutila- 
tions upon  his  own  body,  or  who  refuses  to 
move  hand  or  foot  for  months  at  a  time;  then 
even  the  dullest  man  is  startled  into  curiosity, 
and  feels  himself  in  presence  of  a  fact  that 
calls  for  explanation  and  understanding. 

Abnormal  psychology  comprises  a  num- 
ber of  sub-departments,  which  in  the  main 
have  been  pursued  independently  by  different 
bodies  of  workers;  happily,  in  recent  years 
these  groups  have  come  more  closely  together 
,and  are  now  giving  mutual  aid.  We  may 
broadly  distinguish  two  groups  of  these 
;  sub-departments,  namely,  those  that  are 
concerned  with  minds  in  definitely  morbid 
or  pathological  states,  and  those  concerned 
with  distinctly  unusual  or  abnormal  states  of 
mind  which  cannot  fairly  be  classed  as  mor- 
bid. The  former  group  consists  of  two  sub- 
xdepartments:  the  study  of  mental  diseases 
proper  and  that  of  the  psycho-neuroses.  The 
separation  of  these  studies  is  largely  conven- 
tional and  professional  rather  than  scientific, 


ABNORMAL  PSYCHOLOGY         195 

and  there  is  manifest  at  the  present  time  a 
strong  tendency  to  abolish  it. 

Until  recent  years  the  study  of  mental 
diseases  proper  had  in  the  main  been  pur- 
sued in  strange  detachment  from  the  other 
branches  of  psychology,  and  it  had  thrown  but 
little  light  on  the  major  problems  of  the  science. 
This  was  mainly  due  to  the  prevalence  among 
the  physicians  for  mental  diseases  of  a 
tendency  to  seek  to  understand  and  explain 
all  the  morbid  conditions  of  mind  in  terms  of 
structural  disorder  or  disease  of  the  brain 
only.  Some  mental  diseases  are  primarily 
diseases  of  the  brain,  and  in  cases  of  certain 
types  gross  inflammatory  or  degenerative 
changes  of  the  brain  tissues  are  regularly 
found  upon  post  mortem  examination.  But 
this  fact  does  not  justify  the  assumption  that 
all  mental  disease  is  of  this  nature;  and  of 
late  years  there  has  appeared  a  strong  tendency 
to  seek  for  mental  or  functional  causes  of 
the  abnormal  course  of  mental  process  in 
insane  patients.  This  tendency  has  been 
greatly  stimulated  by  the  modern  develop- 
ments of  the  other  department  of  mental 
pathology.  In  this  second  department  the 
disease  which  provides  the  largest  number  of 
patients  and  the  most  interesting  material 
for  the  student  of  psychology  is  hysteria. 


196  PSYCHOLOGY 

A  generation  ago  the  attitude  of  the  medi- 
cal profession  towards  hysteria  and  allied 
abnormal  conditions  was,  with  very  few 
exceptions,  wholly  unscientific,  being  based 
merely  on  popular  psychology.  It  was 
vaguely  recognized  that  the  extraordinary 
behaviour  of  the  hysterical  patient  implied 
some  kind  of  mental  abnormality,  and  that  no 
gross  disease  of  the  nervous  system  was 
implied  by  it.  But  the  tendency  then  prev- 
alent may  be  crudely  described  by  saying 
that  the  abnormal  behaviour  of  the  hysteric 
was  attributed  to  "pure  cussedness";  the 
treatment  accorded  was  "firmness,"  strong 
electric  shocks,  cold  douches,  and  other 
decorous  substitutes  for  a  sound  birching. 
To  a  small  group  of  French  physicians  belongs 
in  the  main  the  credit  of  having  put  the  study 
of  hysteria  and  allied  conditions  on  a  scientific 
basis,  by  showing  that  the  patients  must  be 
regarded  as  suffering  from  a  disorder  of  men- 
tal origin  and  must  be  treated  in  the  main 
through  the  mind.  They  succeeded  in  show- 
ing that  in  many  such  cases,  perhaps  in  all, 
the  essence  of  the  disorder  is  some  division  of 
the  mind  into  parts  which,  instead  of  co- 
operating in  normal  fashion,  function  more  or 
less  independently  of  one  another  and  even 
enter  into  some  sort  of  rivalry.  It  was  shown 


ABNORMAL  PSYCHOLOGY         197 

that,  while  in  the  majority  of  cases  the  divi- 
sion takes  the  form  of  the  separation  of  some 
minor  functions  only,  in  others  there  occurs 
something  like  a  separation  of  functions  into 
two  rival  systems  that  compete  with  one 
another  for  the  control  of  behaviour,  some- 
times the  one,  sometimes  the  other  predomi- 
nating; and  it  was  shown  that  more  rarely 
such  rival  systems  seem  to  maintain  their 
activities  simultaneously,  the  behaviour  of  the 
patient  seeming  to  express  at  any  one  mo- 
ment the  purposes  of  two  minds.  In  this  way 
was  introduced  the  notion  of  the  division 
or  splitting  of  the  personality,  resulting  in 
alternating  or  in  coexistent  dual  personali- 
ties. Of  these  two  conceptions,  that  of  alter- 
nating personalities  is  the  clearer  and  more 
intelligible.  Under  it  are  generally  classed 
rare  cases  of  the  type  which  in  former  ages 
was  explained  as  due  to  "possession"  of  the 
body  of  the  patient  by  a  "demon"  or  by  the 
spirit  of  some  deceased  person. 

In  a  typical  well-marked  case  of  this  sort, 
the  patient's  normal  life  suddenly  gives  way 
to  a  period  in  which  he  behaves  in  a  manner 
altogether  "unlike  himself."  He  wanders 
perhaps  to  some  distant  place,  and  there  takes 
up  some  new  mode  of  life  under  a  new  name, 
behaving  sufficiently  like  a  normal  person  to 


198  PSYCHOLOGY 

avoid  the  attention  of  the  police  or  of  the 
medical  profession.  After  weeks,  months,  or 
years  of  the  new  mode  of  life,  he  suddenly 
changes  again,  perhaps  waking  up  one  morn- 
ing to  find  that  his  surroundings  are  wholly 
strange  to  him,  and  that  he  remembers  noth- 
ing of  his  past  life  from  the  moment  at  which 
lie  left  home;  in  short,  he  becomes  himself 
again,  after  being  to  all  intents  and  purposes 
a  different  person.  Thereafter  he  may  re- 
lapse at  longer  or  shorter  intervals  into  the 
secondary  state,  "coming  to  himself"  again 
after  each  period  of  secondary  existence.  In 
the  greater  number  of  such  cases,  each  of  the 
two  alternating  personalities  has  no  direct 
knowledge  of  the  other  or  of  his  doings,  the 
period  of  the  dominance  of  the  one  being  a 
complete  blank  for  the  memory  of  the  other; 
and  the  two  personalities  commonly  differ 
widely  in  respect  to  temperament. 

It  is  attempted  to  render  such  cases  intel- 
ligible by  pointing  out  that  most  of  us  ex- 
perience from  time  to  time  changes  similar 
in  kind,  though  much  less  in  degree;  for 
example,  one  passes  into  a  mood  in  which  all 
one's  thinking  has  an  unusual  emotional  tone, 
say,  a  tone  of  melancholy;  and  so  long  as 
this  tone  prevails,  one  dwells  upon  gloomy 
memories,  forgetting  the  brighter  phases  of 


ABNORMAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

one's  past  life,  one's  thinking  reaches  pessi- 
mistic conclusions,  and  one's  behaviour  reveals 
this  inward  gloom.  Now,  it  is  said,  imagine 
this  condition  to  be  accentuated  and  recur- 
rent, and  you  have  an  approximation  to 
alternation  of  personalities;  the  border-line 
being  crossed  when  the  emotional  tones  of  the 
alternating  periods  become  so  widely  different 
that  in  each  period  the  memories  only  of  the 
periods  of  congruent  tone  are  recoverable. 

The  cases  of  dual  personality  of  the  con- 
current type  are  rarely  so  extreme.  The 
existence  of  a  secondary  personality  is  inferred 
from  .certain  features  of  the  behaviour  of  the 
bodily  organism  which  seem  to  bear  no  rela- 
tion to  the  thinking  of  the  subject,  so  far 
as  he  can  reveal  it  to  us;  for  example,  the 
patient  has  an  anaesthetic  or  insensitive  arm 
and  hand,  and  this  can  be  induced  to  write 
intelligible  answers  to  questions  whispered 
in  his  ear,  while  the  subject,  who  afterwards 
denies  all  knowledge  of  both  question  and 
answer,  maintains  an  animated  conversation 
with  a  third  person.  Or  the  anaesthetic  hand 
may  be  pricked  a  given  number  of  times,  and, 
though  the  subject  remains,  so  far  as  can  be 
ascertained,  unaware  that  the  hand  has  been, 
touched,  the  hand  itself  may  be  induced  to 
write  down  the  number  of  the  pricks. 


200  PSYCHOLOGY 

In  such  cases,  according  to  the  commonly 
received  view,  the  impressions  made  on  the 
anaesthetic  limb  fail  to  affect  the  thinking  of 
the  subject,  but  evoke  instead  a  feeble  trickle 
of  mental  activity,  which  flows  on  as  an 
independent  subsidiary  stream  alongside  the 
main  stream;  since  this  main  stream  is,  as 
it  were,  deprived  of  the  influence  of  these 
sense-impressions,  the  lesser  stream  is  said 
to  have  been  split  off  from  the  greater.  The 
facts  are  interpreted  after  the  analogy  of  a 
river  which  overflows  its  banks  at  one  spot, 
and  thus  sends  off  a  small  divergent  stream 
which  follows  for  a  time  a  separate  course. 

In  the  rarest  and  most  interesting  of  all 
these  strange  cases  of  dual  personality,  the 
phenomena  of  the  alternating  and  the  con- 
current types  are  presented  by  the  same 
organism.  During  the  dominance  of  the 
normal  personality,  a  secondary  personality 
reveals  itself  occasionally  in  the  production 
of  movements  of  which  the  normal  personality 
remains  unconscious  or  for  which  he  denies 
all  responsibility,  and  which  yet  express 
intelligent  appreciation  of  the  circumstances 
of  the  moment;  and  later,  when  the  secondary 
personality  is  dominant,  he  claims  to  remem- 
ber the  incident  and  to  have  willed  the  "auto- 
matic" movements. 


ABNORMAL  PSYCHOLOGY         201 

In  face  of  such  puzzling  cases,  some  of 
which  have  been  studied  with  the  most 
admirable  patience  and  acumen  by  the 
French  physicians,  and  also  more  recently 
by  some  American  doctors,  any  hypothesis 
must  be  put  forward  tentatively.  The  view 
that  they  all  imply  or  result  from  some  kind 
of  division  of  the  mental  functions  into  two 
systems  which  carry  on  their  activities  in- 
dependently of  one  another — this  view  finds 
support  in  many  facts  (though  others  cannot 
easily  be  reconciled  with  it),  and  is  widely 
accepted.  But  this  view  is  really  nothing 
more  than  a  hypothetical  description  of  the 
condition,  and  needs  to  be  supplemented  by 
some  hypothesis  which  will  explain  the  pro- 
duction of  the  condition.  Such  an  hypothesis 
is  that  of  Professor  Janet,  to  whom  more  than 
to  any  other  our  present  knowledge  of  these 
states  is  due.  He  assumes  that  the  unity  of 
the  mind,  as  normally  revealed  in  the  direc- 
tion of  its  activity  towards  one  topic  at  any 
one  moment,  is  conditioned  by  the  exercise  of 
a  synthetic  power  or  energy  which  is  one  of 
the  fundamental  functions  or  faculties  of 
mind;  and  he  supposes  that,  in  the  patients 
who  exhibit  these  curious  modes  of  behaviour, 
this  synthetic  energy  is  for  one  reason  or 
another  defective;  hence,  he  says,  the  mind 


202  PSYCHOLOGY 

cannot  perform  so  completely  as  the  normal 
mind  its  unifying  function,  and  its  activities, 
instead  of  being  harmonized  in  one  stream 
which,  however  broad  and  deep,  is  neverthe- 
less a  single  complex  activity,  fall  apart  into 
two  or  even  more  streams,  with  the  result  that 
the  patient's  field  of  consciousness  or  stream 
of  mental  activity  is  narrowed  and  that  indi- 
cations of  subconscious  activities  appear. 

In  recent  years  our  knowledge  of  this  group 
of  pathological  states  of  mind  has  been  further 
enriched  by  the  work  of  Prof.  Freud  of 
Vienna,  who  also  has  sought  to  carry  further 
the  theoretical  explanation  of  them  by  means 
of  a  system  of  ingenious  hypotheses.  At  the 
present  time  these  hypotheses  are  by  no  means 
generally  accepted,  but  are  the  subject  of  a 
most  lively  and  heated  controversy;  neverthe- 
less, they  are  so  well  supported  by  the  good 
results  obtained  by  many  physicians  who 
have  applied  them  in  the  treatment  of 
patients,  and  their  interest  from  the  point  of 
view  of  the  major  problems  of  psychology  is 
so  great,  that  some  indication  of  their  nature 
must  be  given  here. 

The  French  conception  of  hysteria  tends  to 
be  intellectualistic;  i.  e.  it  takes  but  little 
account  of  the  function  of  will  or  conation  in 
mental  life.  In  the  teaching  of  Freud  a 


ABNORMAL  PSYCHOLOGY         203 

leading  role  is  assigned  to  conation.  The 
fundamental  fact  from  which  the  theory 
starts  out  is  that  our  organized  conative 
tendencies  are  apt  to  come  into  conflict  with 
one  another,  producing  what  we  called  moral 
struggles.  Every  case  of  what  is  commonly 
called  temptation  involves  such  a  conflict 
of  conative  tendencies;  when,  in  such  a  con- 
flict, we  conquer  our  temptation,  our  highly 
organized  self -consciousness  brings  into  opera- 
tion a  strongly  organized  system  of  conative 
tendencies  which  support  the  more  moral  or 
social  tendency  in  its  conflict  with  the  immoral 
or  socially  disapproved  tendency,  and  thus 
secure  the  defeat  of  the  latter.  Now,  we  know 
that  such  a  defeated  tendency,  or  conquered 
temptation,  is  not  always  destroyed  or  wholly 
abolished  by  such  a  victory  of  one's  moral 
nature  in  open  conflict;  we  know  that  in  some 
cases  it  recurs  and  requires  to  be  thrust  down 
again  and  again.  But  in  many  cases  we 
succeed,  either  at  once  or  after  repeated 
conflicts,  in  banishing  this  temptation  from 
consciousness.  We  commonly  feel  then  that 
we  have  done  with  it  and  wholly  cast  it  out 
or  destroyed  it.  Now,  it  is  possible  or  even 
probable  that,  when  we  stoutly  face  a  tempta- 
tion, frankly  recognizing  it  for  what  it  is,  an 
expression  of  a  lower  possibility  of  our  nature, 


304  PSYCHOLOGY 

a  conative  tendency  opposed  to  our  moral 
sentiments,  and  when  we  thus  conquer  it, 
the  tendency  is  destroyed.  But  it  seems  (and 
this  is  the  essential  novelty  in  Freud's  teach- 
ing) that  many  natures,  especially  perhaps 
women  brought  up  in  a  strictly  conventional 
manner,  react  hi  a  different  way  to  their 
temptations;  they  are  so  horrified  at  the  first 
dim  awareness  of  the  nature  of  their  tempta- 
tion that  they  never  frankly  recognize  it, 
never  bring  it  out  into  the  light  in  order  to 
confront  it  in  open  conflict.  The  tendency  is 
apt  then  to  be  repressed  and  yet  to  live  and 
work  in  the  mind  in  a  subterraneous  fashion; 
it  becomes,  as  it  were,  a  parasitic  growth 
seeking  constantly  to  force  its  way  to  con- 
sciousness, or,  in  other  words,  to  determine 
the  conscious  thinking  of  the  subject.  But  the 
subject's  moral  nature,  being  radically  op- 
posed to  it,  maintains  a  rigid  censorship,  again 
in  a  subconscious  fashion;  and  so  there  goes 
on  a  perpetual  subterranean  or  subconscious 
conflict.  In  states  of  diminished  mental  alert- 
ness, as  in  dreaming  or  mere  day-dreaming, 
this  repression,  maintained  by  the  organized 
system  of  tendencies  which  constitute  the 
moral  nature,  is  liable  to  partial  remission; 
it  becomes  less  effective,  and  then  the  re- 
pressed tendency  finds  its  chance  to  deter- 


ABNORMAL  PSYCHOLOGY         205 

mine  the  subject's  conscious  thinking.  Even 
in  such  states,  it  commonly  fails  to  express 
itself  directly  and  clearly  in  the  course  of  the 
subject's  thinking,  but  rather  finds  expression 
only  in  symbolical  fashion.  Thus,  in  the 
dreams  of  such  a  person,  the  repressed  ten- 
dency is  apt  to  manifest  itself  in  a  flight  of 
imagery  which,  when  described  by  the  dreamer, 
may  seem  to  have  no  relation  to  the  repressed 
tendency,  and  which  is  not  recognized  by 
the  dreamer  as  so  related,  but  which  in  reality 
symbolizes  the  course  of  events  subconsciously 
desired  by  him.  In  this  way,  it  is  held,  the 
tendency  achieves  a  certain  measure  of  the 
satisfaction  which  in  the  waking  state  is 
wholly  denied  to  it  by  the  rigid  censorship 
of  the  moral  nature. 

Such  analysis  and  interpretation  of  dreams 
occupies  a  very  important  position  in  Freud's 
system  of  psycho-pathology;  for  it  was  a 
main  point  of  departure  from  which  the  whole 
system  was  developed;  and  it  discovers  an 
analogy  between  the  dream-experiences  of 
normal  persons  and  the  processes  which  are 
assumed  to  underlie  and  express  themselves  in 
the  symptoms  of  hysteria.  It  has,  therefore, 
been  much  criticized;  but  there  can  be  little 
doubt  that,  though  some  of  its  most  enthusias- 
tic exponents  have  gone  too  far  in  asserting 


206  PSYCHOLOGY 

that  every  dream  is  determined  by  the  sub- 
conscious working  of  a  repressed  tendency, 
such  interpretation  does  in  some  cases  hit  the 
mark  and  reveal  a  wealth  of  subconscious 
mental  activity  of  which  the  dream  is  the 
expression  in  consciousness. 

It  may  be  objected — How  is  it  possible  to 
establish  any  such  interpretation? — How  can 
it  be  more  than  guesswork?  To  this  the 
reply  is  that  the  interpretation  is  achieved  by 
an  intricate  process  of  delicate  analysis;  and, 
though  this  process  opens  the  door  to  many 
possibilities  of  error,  yet  on  the  whole  the 
analysis  of  a  very  large  number  of  dreams 
by  various  observers  who  have  used  this 
method,  has  revealed  a  certain  lawfulness  and 
consistency  of  mode  of  operation  which  forbid 
us  to  set  aside  the  interpretations  as  purely 
arbitrary;  and  further,  they  are  borne  out  by 
the  analogous  processes  revealed  as  issuing 
in  the  symptoms  of  hysterical  patients. 

The  symptoms  of  the  hysteric  take  the 
form  not  only  of  perverted  modes  of  thinking, 
such  as  the  baseless  conviction  of  having 
performed  some  reprehensible  action,  or  other 
troublesome  obsessions;  but  also  very  com- 
monly that  of  the  performance  of  seemingly 
senseless  actions,  of  paralysis  of  various  or- 
gans, legs,  arms,  organs  of  speech,  and  so 


ABNORMAL  PSYCHOLOGY         207 

forth;  and  of  anaesthesia  or  complete  insensi- 
tiveness  of  parts  of  the  skin  or  of  other  sense- 
organs.  Now,  according  to  the  doctrine  of 
Freud,  these  symptoms  also  are,  like  the  per- 
verted course  of  thinking,  and  like  the  think- 
ing of  the  dreamer,  symbolical  expressions  of 
repressed  tendencies.  We  ha  veto  suppose  that 
in  the  normal  person  the  mental  forces  which 
maintain  the  repression  suffice  to  prevent  any 
expression  of  the  tendency  save  in  dreams,  or 
in  reverie,  or  in  occasional  bodily  movements 
which  seem  to  be  senseless  and  accidental; 
but  that  in  certain  persons,  whose  mental 
energy  is  depressed  either  by  violent  emotional 
shock,  by  long-continued  excess  of  work,  or  by 
the  persistent  subconscious  conflict  between 
the  repressed  tendency  and  the  moral  nature, 
the  repressing  forces  fail  to  accomplish  their 
task  in  an  adequate  manner;  so  that  the  ten- 
dency succeeds  in  asserting  itself  more  fully, 
though  still  in  a  symbolical  or  indirect  manner 
only.  The  symptoms  of  the  hysterical  patient 
thus  appear  as  so  many  disguises,  adopted  by 
a  repressed  tendency  in  order  to  evade  the 
censorship  of  the  moral  nature  and  to  obtain 
a  partial  satisfaction  through  playing  some 
part  in  the  determination  of  conscious  thought 
and  of  behaviour. 
A  relatively  simple  type  of  such  indirect 


208  PSYCHOLOGY 

expression  of  a  repressed  tendency,  which  may 
serve  to  illustrate  the  principle,  is  the  re- 
current hallucinatory  perception  of  some 
object.  The  object  thus  falsely  perceived 
is  found  in  some  cases  to  be  one  with  which 
the  patient  happened  to  be  employed  at  the 
moment  of  some  emotional  crisis  in  the  course 
of  the  moral  conflict  that  resulted  in  repres- 
sion; such  an  object  has  no  intrinsic  con- 
nection with  the  tendency,  and  the  occasion  of 
the  perception  of  it  may  have  escaped  the 
conscious  memory  of  the  patient;  and,  just  for 
this  reason  it  would  seem,  it  is  seized  upon  by 
the  repressed  tendency  as  a  means  of  evading 
the  censorship  and  securing  a  secret  satisfac- 
tion. In  a  classical  instance  of  this  type 
recorded  by  Freud,  the  patient  complained 
of  perceiving  almost  constantly  a  strong  odour 
of  burnt  pudding.  Of  this  hallucination  she 
could  suggest  no  explanation;  yet  it  was 
ultimately  found  that,  at  a  moment  of  emo- 
tional crisis  in  the  history  of  a  repressed 
love  attraction,  she  had  been  occupied  with  a 
burnt  pudding. 

Now,  as  of  the  interpretation  of  dreams, 
the  reader  properly  and  naturally  asks — • 
What  proof  can  be  given  of  the  correctness 
of  such  interpretation  of  symptoms?  The 
answer  is  twofold :  first,  when  by  a  long  and 


ABNORMAL  PSYCHOLOGY          209 

delicate  process  of  analysis  the  physician  has 
discovered  a  repressed  tendency  and  its  prob- 
able connection  with  such  a  symptom,  the 
patient  frequently  remembers  the  circum- 
stances which  determined  the  form  of  the 
symptom  and  recognizes  the  significance  at- 
tributed to  it;  secondly,  it  appears  that  in 
many  cases,  when  the  patient  has  been  led  to 
recognize  frankly  the  nature  of  the  tendency 
which  has  been  repressed,  to  face  it  coura- 
geously, and  to  bring  the  whole  history  of  it 
under  the  free  criticism  of  his  intellectual  and 
moral  nature,  all  the  symptoms  rapidly  disap- 
pear and  the  patient  is  restored  to  health. 

A  useful  confirmation  of  the  reality  of  the 
subconscious  operation  of  conative  tendencies 
has  been  provided  by  the  application  of  a  very 
simple  experimental  procedure  to  both  normal 
and  abnormal  subjects.  If  a  list  of  words  is 
called  aloud  to  any  subject,  he  having  been 
instructed  to  reply  to  each  one  by  calling 
aloud  some  other  word  with  the  least  possible 
delay,  he  will  reply  to  most  of  the  words  after 
a  delay  whose  duration  is  not  more  than  one 
or  two  seconds;  but  in  any  considerable  list 
of  words  so  applied,  there  are  usually  a  few 
to  which  his  reaction  is  longer  delayed  or  in 
some  other  respect  abnormal.  And  it  is 
found,  in  nearly  all  such  cases,  that  the  word 


210  PSYCHOLOGY 

in  question  has  some  emotional  significance, 
or  that  the  object  denoted  is  connected  in  the 
mind  of  the  subject  with  some  strong  conative 
tendency,  often  one  more  or  less  repressed. 

Enough,  perhaps,  has  been  said  to  suggest 
the  nature  of  this  new  system  of  ideas,  and 
to  indicate  their  value  and  significance.  It 
is  sometimes  asked — What  has  psychology 
done  to  enable  us  to  benefit  in  any  way 
our  fellow-men?  Much  might  be  said  in 
reply  to  this  question,  but  perhaps  the  most 
striking  answer  would  be  to  point  to  a  number 
of  men  and  women,  who,  after  being  for 
many  years  a  painful  burden  to  themselves 
and  their  friends,  and  after  having  been 
subjected  without  benefit  to  many  forms  of 
medical  treatment,  have  been  restored  to 
health  and  happiness  and  usefulness  by  the 
application  of  psychological  knowledge  and 
psychological  theory.  This  new  doctrine  and 
the  practice  based  upon  it  are  of  importance 
not  only  in  the  one  province  of  medicine  in 
which  they  have  been  worked  out;  their 
interest  and  importance  go  far  beyond  those 
limits.  They  are  leading  to  a  great  extension 
of  the  psychological  attitude  towards  mental 
diseases  of  all  kinds;  and  they  are  opening 
vistas  of  great  extensions  of  our  knowledge  of 
the  workings  of  the  normal  mind;  especially 


ABNORMAL  PSYCHOLOGY         211 

they  are  revealing  a  realm  of  subconscious 
mental  activity,  the  existence  of  which  had 
been  vaguely  conjectured,  but  which  had 
remained  unexplored  and  altogether  prob- 
lematical. For  both  the  continued  repression 
of  the  reprehensible  tendencies,  and  the  proc- 
esses by  which  they  partially  evade  control, 
are  distinctly  purposive  activities;  and  the 
latter  seem  to  involve  in  some  cases  complex 
and  subtle  operations.  And,  if  the  interpreta- 
tion of  dreams  according  to  this  new  method 
is  not  altogether  fanciful,  some  complex 
dreams  are  not,  as  hitherto  generally  assumed, 
merely  fortuitous  and  purposeless  streams  of 
pictorial  fancies;  rather,  they  are  full  at  every 
point  of  significance,  are  in  fact  highly  elabo- 
rated trains  of  symbolical  imagery  produced 
by  ingeniously  selective  and  constructive 
thinking,  which,  while  remaining  subcon- 
scious, is  guided  and  sustained  by  a  hidden 
purpose  or  design. 

If  the  symptoms  of  the  hysteric,  and  the 
imagery  that  fills  the  consciousness  of  the 
dreamer,  are  the  products  of  elaborate  though 
subconscious  mental  activity,  we  may  fairly 
suppose  that  the  waking  thoughts  of  the 
normal  man  may  be  in  part  the  expression  of 
similar  subconscious  activities;  and  Freud  and 
his  followers  are  actively  carrying  then*  prin- 


212  PSYCHOLOGY 

ciples  into  many  fields  of  normal  psychology, 
and  especially  are  applying  them  to  throw 
light  upon  the  genesis  of  works  of  art  and 
literature.  In  this  way  morbid  psychology 
is  being  brought  into  fruitful  relations  both 
with  normal  psychology  and  with  the  study  of 
mental  states  and  processes  that  are  abnormal 
without  being  morbid. 

These  latter  constitute  a  wide  field  of  study 
which  can  only  be  negatively  defined  by  say- 
ing that  it  comprises  all  states  and  processes 
that  are  neither  normal  nor  morbid.  It  may 
be  roughly  divided  into  two  parts,  that  of 
the  subnormal  and  that  of  the  supernormal. 
The  former  comprises  such  states  as  idiocy 
and  weak-mindedness,  and  alcoholic  and  other 
intoxications  in  so  far  as  they  involve  impair- 
ment of  mental  processes.  These  are  not 
without  their  own  special  interest,  but  they 
cannot  compete  in  this  respect  with  the  super- 
normal manifestations;  for  in  dealing  with  this 
division  we  are  constantly  confronted  by  the 
problem  of  the  future  evolution  of  the  human 
mind,  and  we  seem  to  get  glimpses  of  immense 
possibilities,  of  modes  of  mental  operation 
and  communication  indefinitely  transcending 
the  recognized  limits  of  the  usual  and  the 
normal.  The  principal  topics  of  this  field 
may  be  grouped  under  the  following  heads: — 


ABNORMAL  PSYCHOLOGY         213 

(1)  Subconscious  operations  producing  re- 
sults similar  to  those  of  normal  thinking; 
(2)  supernormal  manifestations  in  the  do- 
mains of  intellect  and  character,  including  the 
production  of  works  of  genius,  religious  con- 
version, and  mystical  experiences;  (3)  super- 
normal influence  of  the  mind  over  the  body; 
(4)  supernormal  processes  of  communication 
between  mind  and  mind. 

The  phenomena  falling  under  all  these 
heads  are  connected  by  the  fact  that  all  of 
them  seem  to  imply  more  or  less  extensive 
subconscious  operations;  and  it  has  been 
attempted  to  bring  them  all  under  one  ex- 
planation by  the  hypothesis  that  each  of  us 
has  a  twofold  mental  constitution  and  a 
double  mental  life;  namely,  the  normal  life 
of  conscious  thought  conditioned  by  one  of 
the  two  constitutions,  and  the  subconscious 
mental  life  conditioned  by  a  second  more  or 
less  independent  mind  or  department  of  the 
mind.  Various  names,  such  as  the  "sub- 
liminal self,"  the  "subconscious  mind,"  the 
"secondary  self,"  and  so  forth,  have  been 
applied  to  this  hypothetical  department  of 
the  mind.  Now,  it  cannot  be  too  strongly  laid 
down,  in  view  of  the  popularity  of  these  catch- 
words, that,  as  commonly  used,  they  are  little 
or  nothing  more  than  words  that  serve  to 


214  PSYCHOLOGY 

cloak  our  ignorance  and  to  disguise  from 
ourselves  the  need  for  further  investigation. 
For  the  ordinary  procedure  is  to  postulate  a 
"subconscious  mind,"  and  then  merely  to 
assign  to  its  agency  all  the  varied  phenomena 
of  a  supernormal  character,  its  nature  re- 
maining completely  undefined  and  its  capa- 
cities for  the  production  of  marvels  being 
regarded  as  without  limit  in  any  direction. 

It  is,  of  course,  a  legitimate  enterprise  to 
attempt  to  work  out  an  hypothesis  of  this 
sort;  but  we  must  recognize  that  none  has  yet 
been  devised  which  can  claim  to  be  a  satis- 
factory working  hypothesis  by  which  the 
facts  can  be  brought  into  intelligible  order. 
We  must  recognize  also  that  the  relations  of 
subconscious  operations  to  conscious  thinking 
are  in  many  cases  so  ultimate,  so  much  of  the 
nature  of  participation  in  the  working  out 
of  a  single  purpose,  that  any  such  division 
of  the  mind  into  two  unlike  parts,  such  as  is 
commonly  implied  by  names  of  the  kind  men- 
tioned above,  appears  wholly  unwarranted. 
We  shall,  therefore,  do  well  to  consider  the 
supernormal  phenomena  under  some  such 
provisional  classification  as  that  suggested 
above,  without  committing  ourselves  to  any 
hypothesis  which  attributes  them  all  to  any 
one  special  agency  or  entity. 


ABNORMAL  PSYCHOLOGY         215 

(1)  The  evidence  of  subconscious  opera- 
tions producing  results  similar  to  those  of 
normal  thinking  is  abundant.  It  is  obtain- 
able experimentally  in  unlimited  quantities 
by  hypnotic  and  post-hypnotic  suggestion. 
Hypnosis  is  an  artificially  induced  condition 
of  partial  quiescence  of  the  mind,  allied  to 
sleep.  After  a  long  period  of  unscientific 
dogmatic  denial,  the  scientific  world  at  last 
recognizes  that  this  condition  can  be  induced 
in  the  great  majority  of  normal  persons,  and 
that  it  is  in  itself  perfectly  harmless.  It  is 
now  recognized  also  that  hypnotism  (the 
study  of  hypnosis)  opens  many  problems  of 
the  greatest  interest  and  provides  methods  for 
investigating  them.  By  means  of  it,  many  of 
the  peculiarities  of  mental  process  character- 
istic of  hysteria  and  other  pathological  states, 
and  many  of  the  supernormal  phenomena, 
can  be  experimentally  produced  and  studied; 
and  it  provides  effective  methods  of  treating 
many  disorders  in  the  production  or  mainte- 
nance of  which  a  nervous  or  a  mental  factor 
plays  a  part. 

In  the  present  connexion  the  facts  of  post- 
hypnotic  suggestion  claim  our  attention. 
Any  good  subject  may  be  told,  while  in  the 
hypnotic  state,  to  perform  some  simple  action 
at  some  definite  time  or  upon  some  signal 


21G  PSYCHOLOGY 

being  given;  and,  if  then  awakened  before 
the  appointed  moment,  he  will  cany  out  the 
suggestion,  although  he  cannot  remember  in 
the  interval  or  immediately  after  performing 
the  action,  even  if  closely  questioned,  what 
suggestion  was  given  him.  And  the  signal 
may  be  of  such  a  nature  that  its  appreciation 
involves  mental  activity  of  considerable  com- 
plexity; for  example,  the  subject  may  be  told 
that  he  will  open  and  shut  the  door  when  the 
observer  touches  his  own  face  with  his  left 
hand  for  the  eleventh  time.  In  such  a  case 
(and  the  experiment  may  be  varied  and  com- 
plicated indefinitely  with  the  best  subjects) 
the  subject  in  some  sense  watches  the  operator, 
notes  and  counts  the  significant  movements, 
and  carries  out  the  suggestion;  and  yet  he 
truthfully  denies  that  he  was  aware  of  the 
nature  of  the  command  given,  or  of  the  fact 
that  the  observer  had  touched  his  face  even 
once;  and  in  some  cases  the  subject  cannot 
even  remember  his  execution  of  the  sug- 
gested action  immediately  after  its  perform- 
ance. Here,  then,  is  indisputable  and  abun- 
dant evidence  that  a  train  of  purposive  mental 
activity,  which  controls  to  some  extent  the 
behaviour  of  the  subject,  may  go  on  while  he 
is  consciously  thinking  of  other  matters. 
Another  and  equally  striking  kind  of 


ABNORMAL  PSYCHOLOGY         217 

evidence  of  the  same  fact  is  afforded  by 
"automatic"  writing,  an  accomplishment 
which  a  certain  number  of  normal  persons 
are  capable  of  acquiring.  In  an  ordinary 
case  of  this  kind  the  subject  may  sit  read- 
ing or  talking,  while  his  hand,  holding  a 
pencil  upon  a  writing-block,  writes  more  or 
less  coherent  and  intelligible  passages  of  prose 
or  verse,  of  which  he  remains  ignorant  until, 
like  any  other  person,  he  reads  the  script. 
In  various  closely  analogous  ways  other 
automatic  movements  may  reveal  guidance 
which  is  indisputably  intelligent  and  yet 
independent  of  the  conscious  thinking  of  the 
subject;  popular  methods  of  inducing  such 
movements  are  table-tilting  with  the  finger 
tips,  planchette  writing,  and  the  "ouija" 
game.  In  some  cases  these  movements  reveal 
knowledge  of  facts  which  cannot  be  recalled  to 
conscious  memory;  and  in  others  they  reveal 
deliberate  intention  and  ingenious  design  of 
which  the  subject  remains  unconscious.  It 
should  be  added  that  the  "automatic  script" 
commonly  consists  chiefly  of  detached  sen- 
tences or  mere  fragments  of  sentences;  yet 
in  some  cases  it  consists  of  long  connected 
passages  not  without  literary  merit. 

(2)  Another  type  of  evidence  of  the  same 
class  consists  in  the  solution  of  problems,  or 


218  PSYCHOLOGY 

the  production  of  written  matter  of  literary 
merit,  during  sleep  or  while  the  mind  is  occu- 
pied with  other  matters.  The  special  interest 
of  these  cases  is  that  they  form  a  transition 
to  the  processes  of  the  second  class  (p.  213), 
namely,  the  production  of  works  of  genius, 
religious  conversion,  and  mystical  experience. 
For  there  is  a  natural  tendency  to  set  such 
processes  apart  by  themselves  and  to  accen- 
tuate their  differences  from  normal  mental 
process.  But  it  is  more  conducive  to  an  un- 
derstanding of  them  to  seek  and  to  accentuate 
the  points  of  resemblance  rather  than  those 
of  difference.  From  this  point  of  view  we  do 
well  to  begin  the  consideration  of  such  facts 
by  insisting  on  the  large  proportion  of  subcon- 
scious mental  activity  which  is  involved  in  our 
everyday  thinking.  Whoever  has  made  on 
the  spur  of  the  moment  a  witty  remark  will 
probably  be  prepared  on  reflection  to  acknowl- 
edge that  the  words  sprang  to  his  lips  without 
any  deliberate  search  for  them,  and  that  the 
mental  process,  the  assimilation  of  two  seem- 
ingly unlike  things,  or  relations,  or  what  not, 
accomplished  itself  in  secret,  the  result  only 
coming  to  consciousness  as  the  words  issued 
from  his  lips;  and  he  may  subsequently  have 
found,  somewhat  to  his  surprise,  that  there 
was  more  in  his  remark  than  he  at  first  realized. 


ABNORMAL  PSYCHOLOGY         219 

This  is  the  kind  of  normal  activity  which 
we  may  set  at  the  lower  end  of  a  continuous 
scale,  at  the  upper  end  of  which  we  may  place 
the  achievement  of  the  greatest  works  of 
genius.  At  every  level  of  this  scale  we  seem 
to  see  at  work  the  same  factors  or  contributing 
conditions,  but  in  very  different  proportions. 
In  the  first  place  it  is  to  be  noted  that  the 
subconscious  activity  which  is  revealed  by 
the  achievement  expresses  in  some  sense  the 
previous  mental  development  of  the  subject, 
his  interests,  knowledge,  and  character.  The 
dull  pedant  does  not  suddenly  coruscate  in 
flashes  of  wit;  the  calculating  prodigy  does 
not  solve  problems  in  the  higher  branches  of 
mathematics  without  previous  study  of  those 
branches;  the  person  who  has  neither  learnt 
to  enjoy,  nor  been  trained  in  the  technique  of, 
a  particular  art  does  not  suddenly  produce  a 
masterpiece.  Sudden  conversions  and  mys- 
tical experiences  may  seem  in  some  cases  to 
be  exceptions  to  this  rule;  but  it  is  doubt- 
ful whether  on  closer  examination  any  such 
exception  could  be  substantiated.  It  will 
usually  be  found  that  the  religious  convert 
or  mystic,  no  matter  how  little  his  previous 
life  may  have  shown  the  influence  of  religion, 
has  been  at  some  period  of  his  life  subjected 
to  religious  influences;  in  the  common  phrase 


220  PSYCHOLOGY 

—the  good   seed  has  been  sown  and  has 
ripened  in  secret. 

Again,  the  subconscious  activity  usually 
expresses  the  influence  of  some  conscious 
volition  or  conation.  The  problem  which  is 
solved  during  sleep  is  usually  one  with  which 
the  sleeper  has  striven  while  awake.  Even 
the  sudden  outburst  of  wit  implies  a  certain 
conative  attitude.  The  sudden  formulation 
of  a  great  scientific  hypothesis  is  preceded  by 
much  thinking  directed  to  the  problem.  The 
compositions  of  the  musician  or  the  poet 
express  his  will  to  compose,  often  his  explicit 
intention  at  the  moment,  but  in  any  case  a 
general  attitude  of  his  will.  Even  the  auto- 
matic writer  can  to  some  extent  voluntarily 
set  himself  to  produce  the  automatic  script. 
And  religious  conversion  or  ecstasy  is  usually 
preceded  by  a  longing  or  striving  for  some 
change  of  life,  some  new  mode  of  conscious- 
ness, though  it  may  be  little  more  than  a  vague 
discontent  with  life  as  hitherto  known  and 
lived.  These  considerations  justify  us  in 
seeking  to  exhibit  even  the  more  extreme  and 
extensive  forms  of  subconscious  activity  as 
continuous  with  normal  mental  activities, 
rather  than  as  processes  of  an  altogether 
different  order,  wholly  attributable  to  some 
second  mind,  whether  a  "subconscious  mind" 


ABNORMAL  PSYCHOLOGY         221 

of  the  subject  or  some  mind  external  to  and 
altogether  independent  of  his  normal  mind. 

(3)  The  supernormal  control  of  the  mind 
over  the  bodily  processes  is  a  topic  that  has 
been  brought  into  the  forefront  of  popular 
interest  of  late  years.  Systems  of  mental 
healing,  or  at  least  methods  of  treating  bodily 
disease  that  rely  little  or  not  at  all  on  physical 
or  chemical  agencies,  are  enjoying  a  great 
vogue;  and  even  the  medical  men  of  this 
country  are  becoming  aware  that  there  is 
" something  in"  hypnotism,  and  that  the 
methods  of  suggestion  and  persuasion  and 
even  the  claims  of  the  "Christian  Scientists" 
are  deserving  of  some  unbiased  attention. 

In  all  this  disputed  region,  in  which  the 
plain  man  of  science  feels  himself  to  be  walk- 
ing on  a  quagmire,  surrounded  with  mists,  the 
effects  of  hypnotic  suggestion  provide  the  one 
sure  evidence  that  mental  influences  upon 
bodily  processes  may  go  far  beyond  the  nor- 
mal or  ordinarily  recognized.  And  this  evi- 
dence forbids  us  to  shut  our  eyes  to  the  possi- 
bility that  some  elements  of  truth  and  reality 
are  mixed  up  with  the  large  mass  of  error  and 
deception  that  grows  up  in  connexion  with 
every  system  of  mental  healing.  For  it 
si  lows  us  the  reality  of  mental  influences 
upon  the  nutrition,  repair,  and  regulation  of 


222  PSYCHOLOGY 

bodily  organs,  which  influences  nevertheless 
completely  elude  our  understanding;  and  it 
forces  us  to  recognize  that  we  can  set  no  limit 
to  the  extent  of  such  influences.  It  is  char- 
acteristic of  all  or  most  of  the  methods  of 
mental  healing  that,  in  so  far  as  they  are  real, 
they  involve  mental  activities  which  are 
largely  subconscious. 

(4)  Passing  now  to  consider  supernormal 
communication  of  mind  with  mind,  we  enter 
a  region  of  critical  importance  for  our  inter- 
pretation of  the  foregoing  classes  of  super- 
normal phenomena.  For  if,  as  has  always 
been  maintained  by  most  of  the  religious 
systems,  minds  can  communicate  with,  or  in 
any  way  influence,  one  another  in  some  direct 
fashion  which  does  not  involve  the  use  of  the 
organs  of  sense;  then  we  must  be  prepared  to 
look  outside  the  mind  of  the  individual  for 
the  explanation  of  some  at  least  of  the  super- 
normal manifestations  of  mental  activity. 
Explanations  of  this  sort  have  always  been 
accepted  by  the  greater  part  of  mankind: 
hence  the  crucial  importance  of  any  positive 
empirical  evidence  of  such  direct  communica- 
tion or  influence,  and  hence  the  need  for  the 
most  impartial  and  critical  examination  of  any 
evidence  alleged  to  be  of  this  nature.  The 
word  "telepathy"  has  recently  come  into 


ABNORMAL  PSYCHOLOGY         223 

general  use  to  denote  the  direct  action  of  mind 
on  mind;  the  crucial  question  may  therefore 
be  stated  in  the  form — Does  telepathy  occur? 
The  efforts  of  the  well-known  Society  for 
Psychical  Research  have  for  more  than  a 
generation  been  largely  directed  towards 
establishing  an  affirmative  answer  to  this 
question,  by  means  of  experiments  of  many 
kinds  and  the  collection  and  critical  sifting  of 
facts  which  seem  to  demand  this  hypothesis 
for  their  explanation.  The  evidence  accumu- 
lated by  these  efforts  is  such  as  would  suffice 
to  establish  the  fact  in  dispute  for  all  normal 
minds,  were  it  not  that  the  question  is  of  so 
momentous  importance. 

Admitting,  then,  the  necessity  of  still  hold- 
ing our  minds  in  suspense  on  this  question, 
let  us  glance  at  the  prospect  opened  out  by  the 
highly  probable,  but  not  perhaps  completely 
verified,  assumption  that  telepathy  occurs. 
If  this  assumption  is  accepted,  the  mind  of 
the  individual  organism  no  longer  appears  as 
inevitably  isolated  from  all  other  minds,  or  as 
communicating  with  them  only  by  the  medium 
of  the  bodily  organs  of  expression  and  sense- 
perception;  and  it  is  open  to  us  to  seek  to 
explain  mental  processes  and  effects  that 
seem  otherwise  inexplicable  as  due  to  the 
direct  influence  of  other  minds.  Two  distinct 


224  PSYCHOLOGY 

lines  of  explanation  are  then  open  to  us. 
First,  we  may  seek  to  explain  certain  super- 
normal mental  processes  by  invoking  the 
influence  of  some  of  those  minds  of  which  we 
have  positive  knowledge,  namely,  the  minds  of 
our  contemporary  fellow-men;  we  might,  for 
example,  suppose  that  religious  conversions, 
or  some  of  the  supernormal  effects  of  mind  on 
body,  are  brought  about  by  the  influence  of 
some  one  stronger  mind,  or  by  the  concen- 
tration of  several  or  many  minds,  upon  the 
one.  But  this  supposition  would  fail  to  ex- 
plain some  of  the  facts  and  alleged  facts, 
notably  the  inspirations  of  genius  that  exceed 
the  powers  of  all  other  existing  persons,  and 
cases  in  which  persons  seem  to  display  knowl- 
edge that  was  in  the  possession  of  no  person 
living  at  the  time. 

In  this  way,  many  of  those  who  regard  some 
of  these  supernormal  manifestations  as  inex- 
plicable, unless  the  direct  influence  of  mind  on 
mind  is  assumed,  are  led  to  see  in  them  evi- 
dence of  the  influence  of  disembodied  minds. 
The  study  of  abnormal  psychology  has  thus 
become  a  field  in  which  it  is  sought  to  find 
empirical  evidence  for  two  of  the  most  ancient 
and  widely  held  beliefs  of  the  human  race; 
namely,  the  belief  in  the  survival  of  human 
personalities  after  bodily  death,  and  the  be- 


ABNORMAL  PSYCHOLOGY         225 

lief  in  the  communion  of  human  with  divine 
mind. 

Evidence  in  support  of  the  former  belief  is 
sought  chiefly  in  automatic  speech  or  writing, 
which  seems  hi  so  many  cases  to  express  the 
personalities  of  deceased  human  beings.  So 
faithfully  are  such  personalities  thus  por- 
trayed that  many  hundreds  of  cultured  men 
and  women  have  become  convinced  that 
these  "automatic  messages"  are  what  they  so 
often  seem  and  claim  to  be,  namely,  messages 
formulated  in  the  still  surviving  minds  of 
deceased  persons,  and  somehow  expressed 
through  the  medium  of  the  automatic  writer. 
Those  whose  first  impulse  is  to  dismiss  this 
conception  with  a  sneer  should  try  to  abstain 
from  this  course,  until  they  have  first-hand 
acquaintance  with  instances  of  this  strange 
phenomenon.  On  the  other  hand,  a  hasty 
acceptance  of  this  interpretation  of  the  facts 
is  equally  to  be  deprecated.  For  the  evalu- 
ation of  the  evidence  is  a  most  delicate  and 
difficult  work,  requiring  complete  freedom 
from  bias;  yet  the  number  of  persons  who  are 
capable  of  maintaining  the  attitude  of  im- 
partial inquiry  in  the  face  of  this  evidence 
seems  to  be  but  a  minute  fraction  of  the 
cultivated  world. 

Empirical  support  for  the  belief  in  com- 


226  PSYCHOLOGY 

munion  with  the  divine  mind  is  sought  along 
two  lines  chiefly.  First,  it  is  argued  that  the 
process  of  religious  conversion  is  often  one 
which  cannot  be  accounted  for  in  terms  of  the 
known  properties  of  the  human  mind  in 
general  and  of  the  mental  peculiarities  of  the 
persons  concerned.  Secondly,  it  is  pointed 
out  that  in  all  ages  the  specifically  religious 
experiences  of  men,  even  of  men  brought  up 
under  the  influence  of  the  most  diverse 
traditions,  have  certain  features  in  common 
which  mark  them  as  the  work  of  a  common 
influence  and  point  to  their  determination 
from  a  common  source.  Hence,  it  is  argued, 
it  is  reasonable  to  believe  that  this  religious 
experience,  of  which  the  fullest  or  completest 
type  is  the  mystical  sense  of  the  absorption 
of  the  self  in  a  larger  whole,  is  what  it  appears 
to  be  to  those  who  best  know  it;  namely,  an 
actual  union  or  communion  of  the  human 
mind  with  the  divine  mind.  This  reasoning 
has  been  urged  in  modern  times  by  a  number 
of  writers,  but  by  none  so  forcibly  as  by  the 
late  William  James  in  his  celebrated  treatise, 
"The  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience.'* 
The  influence  of  that  work  has  been  very 
great;  and  to  it  is  largely  due  the  fact  that 
psychology,  which  until  very  recently  was 
commonly  regarded  with  hostile  suspicion  by 


ABNORMAL  PSYCHOLOGY         227 

the  leaders  of  religious  thought,  as  well  as  by 
the  rank  and  file,  seems  now  in  a  fair  way  to 
become  the  chosen  handmaid  of  theology  and 
even  its  principal  support.  For,  since  the 
publication  of  that  book,  there  has  sprung  up 
what  may  almost  be  called  a  new  branch  of 
literature  in  the  shape  of  several  journals  and 
a  stream  of  articles  and  books,  devoted  to  the 
psychology  of  religious  experience  and  written 
for  the  most  part  by  theologians. 

It  will  be  seen  from  this  brief  review  of  the 
field  of  abnormal  psychology  that  in  most  of 
its  branches  we  are  compelled  to  recognize 
the  reality  of  subconscious  mental  operations; 
and  that  though  the  results  both  in  behaviour 
and  in  consciousness  of  such  operations  are 
often  similar  to  those  of  normal  mental 
process,  yet  in  many  cases  these  results  go 
beyond  the  normal. 

More  than  one  attempt  has  been  made  to 
devise  an  hypothesis  which  will  bring  all  these 
supernormal  effects  under  one  explanation. 
Of  such  attempts  the  most  interesting, 
perhaps,  is  that  of  William  James.  He 
suggested  that  we  may  regard  all  minds  as 
connected  in  some  immediate  fashion  which 
permits  of  their  reciprocal  influence  and  of 
the  conjunction  of  their  powers;  or,  to  put 
the  notion  in  another  way,  that  all  mind, 


228  PSYCHOLOGY 

human  and  infra-human  as  well  as  super- 
human mind,  is  one,  and  that  our  individual 
minds  are  but  partial  manifestations  of  the 
one  mind,  conditioned  by  the  peculiarities  of 
our  bodily  organisms.  All  the  supernormal 
effects  of  mental  action,  including  the  ex- 
tremer  instances  of  control  of  bodily  processes, 
the  expression  of  knowledge  not  acquired 
by  any  normal  means,  the  supreme  achieve- 
ments of  genius,  religious  conversion  and  the 
ecstatic  sense  of  absorption  of  the  self  in  a 
larger  all-comprehensive  whole,  which  seems 
to  be  the  extreme  form  of  the  specifically 
religious  experience — all  these  effects  might 
then  be  attributed  to  a  partial  or  temporary 
suspension  of  the  conditions  which  commonly 
isolate  the  individual  mind. 

No  open-minded  student  of  psychology  will 
refuse  to  recognize  the  legitimacy  and  the 
fascination  of  such  speculations.  But  the 
chief  work  of  abnormal  psychology  must 
continue  to  be  impartial  observation  and 
critical  sifting  of  the  empirical  data,  on  the 
basis  of  which  alone  such  speculations  can  be 
tested  or  verified. 


SOCIAL  PSYCHOLOGY  229 

CHAPTER  VIH 

SOCIAL   PSYCHOLOGY 

WHEN  the  student  of  behaviour  has  learnt 
from  the  various  departments  of  Psychology, 
reviewed  in  the  foregoing  pages,  all  they  can 
teach  him  of  the  structure,  genesis,  and  modes 
of  operation  of  the  individual  mind,  a  large 
field  still  awaits  his  exploration.  If  we  put 
aside  as  unproven  such  speculations  as  that 
touched  on  at  the  end  of  the  foregoing  chapter, 
and  refuse  to  admit  any  modes  of  communi- 
cation or  influence  between  minds  other 
than  through  the  normal  channels  of  sense- 
perception  and  bodily  movement,  we  must 
nevertheless  recognize  the  existence  in  a 
certain  sense  of  over-individual  or  collective 
minds. 

We  may  fairly  define  a  mind  as  an  organ- 
ized system  of  mental  or  purposive  forces; 
and,  in  the  sense  so  defined,  every  highly  or- 
ganized human  society  may  properly  be  said 
to  possess  a  collective  mind.  For  the  collec- 
tive actions  which  constitute  the  history  of 
any  such  society  are  conditioned  by  an  organ- 
ization which  can  only  be  described  in  terms  of 
mind,  and  which  yet  is  not  comprised  within 
the  mind  of  any  individual;  the  society  is 


230  PSYCHOLOGY 

rather  constituted  by  the  system  of  relations 
obtaining  between  the  individual  minds  which 
are  its  units  of  composition.  Under  any  given 
circumstances  the  actions  of  the  society  are, 
or  may  be,  very  different  from  the  mere  sum  of 
the  actions  with  which  its  several  members 
would  react  to  the  situation  in  the  absence  of 
the  system  of  relations  which  renders  them  a 
society;  or,  in  other  words,  the  thinking  and 
acting  of  each  man,  in  so  far  as  he  thinks 
and  acts  as  a  member  of  a  society,  is  very 
different  from  his  thinking  and  acting  as  an 
isolated  individual. 

We  shall  presently  consider  more  nearly 
what  is  implied  in  this  proposition.  But  first 
it  may  be  pointed  out  that,  if  we  recognize 
the  existence  of  collective  minds,  the  work  of 
social  psychology  falls  under  three  heads. 
The  one  head  is  the  study  of  the  general 
principles  of  collective  psychology,  that  is, 
the  study  of  the  general  principles  of  collec- 
tive thinking  and  feeling  and  acting,  as  dis- 
played by  men  in  social  groups.  Secondly, 
the  general  principles  of  collective  psychology 
being  given,  there  remains  the  study  of  the 
peculiarities  presented  by  the  collective  be- 
haviour and  mental  life  of  particular  societies. 
Thirdly,  the  mental  life  of  any  society  with  its 
socialized  and  organically  related  members 


SOCIAL  PSYCHOLOGY  231 

being  given,  social  psychology  has  to  describe 
the  way  in  which  each  new  member  entering 
the  society  becomes  moulded  to  its  traditional 
ways  of  thinking,  feeling,  and  doing,  until  he 
is  fit  to  play  his  part  as  a  member  and  to  con- 
tribute his  influence  to  its  collective  mental 
life. 

This  third  division  of  the  field  of  social 
psychology  overlaps  with  and  supplements 
in  an  important  manner  the  study  of  the 
development  of  the  individual  mind.  For, 
though  it  is  possible  to  study  this  development 
in  abstraction  from  the  social  setting  of  the 
individual,  and  to  establish  in  this  way  certain 
laws  of  mental  development,  any  such  study 
must  be  in  many  respects  incomplete  and 
misleading.  Every  normal  human  being 
grows  up  under  the  constant  influence  of  the 
society  into  which  he  is  born,  and  his  mental 
development  is  moulded  by  it  at  every  point. 
He  becomes  the  heir  to  an  intellectual  and 
moral  tradition  which  has  slowly  been  built 
up,  bit  by  bit,  through  the  efforts  of  thousands 
of  generations.  Even  in  the  most  primitive 
societies  of  savage  men  this  tradition  is  al- 
ready very  extensive  and  complex;  and  in  our 
modern  civilized  societies  it  has  advanced  so 
far  in  these  respects  that  no  one  mind  can 
absorb  more  than  a  relatively  small  fraction 


232  PSYCHOLOGY 

of  the  whole.  Of  the  intellectual  tradition 
the  most  important  part  is  language,  the 
instrument  and  condition  of  almost  all  fur- 
ther acquirement.  In  acquiring  the  com- 
mand of  his  native  language  a  child  has  much 
more  to  learn  than  the  adult  who  sets  out  to 
master  a  foreign  tongue.  For,  while  the  latter 
has  to  do  little  more  than  to  attach  a  new 
sound  to  some  familiar  object,  the  child,  in 
learning  to  use  words,  is  learning  also  to 
break  up  the  whole  world  of  his  environment 
into  a  multitude  of  things,  and  to  discern  a 
multitude  of  distinctions  and  relations  be- 
tween them.  All  these  things,  distinctions, 
and  relations  are  but  a  selection  from  the 
infinite  number  which  might  be  discerned  by 
an  all-powerful  mind.  The  child  makes  a 
selection  which  is  in  the  main  that  which  is 
the  basis  of  the  culture  of  his  society;  and 
in  making  this  selection  he  is  largely  in- 
fluenced by  the  language  created  by  his 
forefathers,  in  order  to  mark  these  selected 
aspects  of  the  wrorld.  The  normal  child 
acquires  also  from  his  social  group  a  great 
number  of  traditional  beliefs  about  the  objects 
which  he  has  been  led  to  recognize;  most  of 
which  he  continues  to  hold  throughout  his 
life,  without  ever  questioning  their  truth  or 
inquiring  how  he  came  to  accept  them.  And 


SOCIAL  PSYCHOLOGY  233 

in  civilized  societies  he  may  acquire  also  the 
command  of  all,  or  some  of,  the  powerful 
instruments  of  the  intellect  which  have  been 
built  up  by  the  labours  of  many  generations, 
such  instruments  as  written  language,  draw- 
ing, numbers,  and  mathematical  knowledge. 

A  more  important  part,  perhaps,  of  the 
individual's  social  heritage  is  the  moral 
tradition.  Each  one  of  us  has  to  make  this 
his  own,  not  merely  by  acquiring  knowledge 
of  it,  but  by  building  up  a  system  of  moral 
sentiments;  for  it  is  questionable  whether 
these  are  in  any  degree  transmitted  by  he- 
redity; and  even  if  a  certain  basis  of  the  moral 
sentiments  is  thus  transmitted,  it  is  certain 
that  much  of  the  moral  tradition  has  to  be 
impressed  anew  upon  each  child,  in  order  that 
he  may  become  capable  of  controlling  his 
behaviour  in  accordance  with  the  moral  code 
of  his  community. 

The  preparation  of  the  individual  to  play 
his  proper  part  in  the  life  of  his  community 
involves,  then,  a  vast  amount  of  shaping  of 
his  mental  development  by  the  influence  of 
society;  the  understanding  of  this  shaping 
process  is  clearly  a  matter  of  some  importance. 
In  so  far  as  men  have  deliberately  attempted 
to  promote  this  process,  they  have  acted  upon 
theories  which,  especially  as  regards  the  shap- 


234  PSYCHOLOGY 

ing  of  the  character,  have  generally  been  of 
the  most  inadequate  kind.  From  the  ancients 
who  taught  that  knowledge  and  virtue  are 
identical,  to  Rousseau,  the  English  Utilita- 
rians, and  Herbert  Spencer,  the  intellectualist 
and  the  hedonist  fallacies,  generally  combined, 
have  vitiated  almost  all  theories  of  the  proc- 
ess; and  man  has  been  persistently  repre- 
sented as  doing  right  because  he  realizes  that 
honesty  is  the  best  policy.  The  practical  out- 
come of  all  such  theories  is  an  undue  reliance 
upon  rewards  and  punishments  and  the  pros- 
pect of  pleasure  or  of  pain,  as  regulators  of 
conduct. 

Only  a  sounder  psychology  can  save  us 
from  these  fallacies.  We  must  sweep  away 
every  trace  of  the  doctrine  that  conduct 
proceeds  essentially  from  a  calculation  of 
satisfactions  to  be  yielded  by  this  or  that 
course;  and  we  must  put  in  its  place  the  truth 
that  every  creature,  whether  animal,  child, 
or  man,  behaves  in  this  or  that  way,  because 
the  impulses  with  which  he  is  innately  en- 
dowed are  set  towards  this  or  that  end.  From 
this  it  follows  that  the  problem  of  moral 
education  is  the  problem  of  directing  the 
impulses  towards  appropriate  objects,  or,  in 
technical  terms,  of  linking  the  appropriate 
conative  and  cognitive  dispositions.  This 


SOCIAL  PSYCHOLOGY  235 

cannot  be  achieved  by  any  system  of  rewards 
and  punishments,  but  only  by  a  much  more 
subtly  working  influence  of  society  upon  the 
developing  individual.  We  must  recognize 
that,  in  the  influencing  of  the  development 
of  both  the  cognitive  and  the  conative  sides 
of  the  mind,  logical  reasoning  plays  but  a 
secondary  and  occasional  role,  and  that  the 
processes  by  which  society  works  upon  the 
growing  mind  at  every  moment  of  its  waking 
life  are  of  a  very  different  nature. 

These  processes  may  be  classed  under  three 
great  heads — suggestion,  sympathy,  and  imi- 
tation. By  "suggestion"  we  mean  the  proc- 
ess in  virtue  of  which  beliefs  are  induced 
in,  or  communicated  to,  the  subject  independ- 
ently of  all  logical  reasoning  to  a  conclusion. 
We  tend  to  accept  without  question  the 
beliefs  we  find  established  in  the  minds  of  our 
fellows;  and  to  this  tendency  each  of  us  owes 
by  far  the  greater  part  of  the  beliefs  which 
constitute  the  working  capital  of  his  intel- 
lect; even  when  we  reason  with  strictest 
logic,  we  commonly  reason  from  premises 
which  are  beliefs  acquired  in  this  unreasoning 
fashion. 

By  "sympathy"  we  mean  the  tendency  to 
experience,  in  face  of  the  same  object,  the 
same  emotions  and  impulses  that  are  revealed 


236  PSYCHOLOGY 

by  the  behaviour  of  our  fellows.  By  the 
working  of  this  principle  the  set  of  our  im- 
pulses is  regulated  and  brought  into  conform- 
ity with  the  moral  tradition,  or,  in  other 
words,  the  growth  of  our  moral  sentiments  is 
directed. 

By  "imitation"  we  mean  the  tendency  to 
direct  in  detail  the  bodily  movements  to  which 
our  impulses  prompt  us,  according  to  the 
pattern  set  us  by  our  fellows;  a  tendency  not 
without  importance,  though  less  profoundly 
influential  than  the  other  two. 

The  elucidation  of  the  subtle  workings  of 
these  principles  is  the  chief  task  of  the  one 
branch  of  social  psychology.  Here  it  must 
suffice  to  have  indicated  merely  the  nature  of 
that  task,  and  to  say  that  some  progress  has 
already  been  made  with  it. 

In  studying  the  general  principles  of 
collective  psychology,  we  have  to  begin  with 
the  simplest  forms  of  human  and  animal 
association;  for,  although  it  is  only  the  more 
highly  developed  human  groups  that  can 
properly  be  said  to  manifest  a  collective  mind, 
yet  the  modes  of  reciprocal  influence  of  the 
individual  and  of  the  group,  which  are  essen- 
tial to  the  existence  of  the  collective  mind, 
are  displayed  in  relatively  simple  forms  by 
groups  of  low  degrees  of  organization. 


SOCIAL  PSYCHOLOGY  237 

We  must  pass  over  the  fascinating  study  of 
animal  societies,  noting  merely  the  most 
important  of  its  lessons;  namely,  first,  that 
the  prime  condition  of  the  existence  of  animal 
societies  is  the  gregarious  instinct;  and  sec- 
ondly, that  the  harmonious  co-operation  of 
the  members  of  the  group,  especially  in 
flight  and  in  defence,  is  secured  by  the  ten- 
dency to  sympathetic  reaction  which  is  in- 
nate in  each  member  (see  p.  171).  This  primi- 
tive sympathetic  tendency,  the  reader  may  be 
reminded,  is  merely  an  instinctive  tendency 
to  respond,  to  the  expressions  characteristic 
of  each  of  the  principal  innate  impulses  of 
the  species,  with  a  similar  impulse  and  emo- 
tional excitement.  We  see  this  principle 
illustrated  in  the  most  perfect  and  simple 
manner  among  the  most  social  of  all  the 
animals,  namely,  the  hive  bees.  The  removal 
of  the  queen  from  the  midst  of  her  immediate 
attendants  produces  in  them  a  distress  which 
expresses  itself  in  a  peculiar  note;  and  this 
note  rapidly  evokes  a  similar  distress,  simi- 
larly expressed,  throughout  all  the  bees  pres- 
ent in  the  hive.  The  restoration  of  the  queen 
(or  even  of  her  dead  body  or  of  some  object 
impregnated  with  the  odour  of  her  body) 
transforms  the  distress  of  the  bees  in  her 
immediate  neighbourhood  to  a  pleasurable 


238  PSYCHOLOGY 

excitement,  which  in  turn  expresses  itself 
in  a  characteristic  note  and  is  rapidly  spread 
by  the  agency  of  this  sound  throughout  the 
hive.  The  note  expressive  of  anger  spreads 
in  like  manner  this  excitement  throughout 
the  hive;  and  in  all  probability  the  same  is 
true  of  notes  expressing  other  emotional 
impulses. 

When  we  turn  to  consider  the  simplest 
form  of  human  association,  namely,  the 
fortuitously  collected  crowd  of  men,  we  see 
that  it  owes  its  most  striking  peculiarities 
to  this  same  sympathetic  principle.  The 
notorious  characteristic  of  the  crowd  is  the 
violence  of  the  outbursts  of  the  primary 
emotions  and  impulses.  The  panic  is  the 
simplest  and  most  striking  type  of  such 
collective  excitement;  it  is  displayed  by 
human  crowds  just  as  simply  and  terribly 
as  by  animal  groups.  If  some  hundreds  of 
men  are  gathered  together  in  one  place,  and 
if  some  few  of  them  are  terrified  and  give 
audible  and  visible  expression  to  then*  fear, 
the  excitement  is  apt  to  spread  almost, 
instantaneously  throughout  the  whole  group ; 
even  though  the  object  that  primarily  pro- 
voked it  in  the  few  remains  hidden  from  the 
mass.  And  the  excitement  intensifies  itself 
from  moment  to  moment;  because  each  man 


SOCIAL  PSYCHOLOGY  239 

not  only  responds  to  the  first  cry  of  fear  with 
a  thrill  of  the  same  emotion,  but  also,  as 
he  looks  round  to  discover  the  threatening 
danger,  he  sees  fear  expressed  on  every  face 
and  in  every  gesture,  and  hears  it  in  every 
voice.  Thus  the  emotion  is  propagated  and 
accentuated  by  the  primitive  sympathetic 
tendency;  and  with  it  the  impulse  to  escape 
grows  stronger,  until  it  becomes  uncontrol- 
lable and,  dominating  all  members  of  the 
crowd,  drives  them  on  to  those  wild  struggles 
to  escape  in  which  men  seem  to  lose  all  the 
human  attributes,  and  to  sink  back  to  the 
level  of  purely  animal  behaviour. 

If  the  panic  affords  the  most  striking  and 
terrible  illustration  of  collective  emotion,  all 
the  other  crude  emotions  and  impulses  seem 
capable  of  being  spread  and  intensified  by 
the  same  process  of  sympathetic  contagion. 
Anger  especially  is  notoriously  apt  to  spread 
through  a  crowd,  and  the  angry  mob  is  only 
less  violent  and  less  inaccessible  to  the  voice 
of  reason  than  the  panic-stricken  crowd. 
The  achievements  of  great  orators  show  how 
the  whole  range  of  the  emotions  may,  under 
favourable  conditions,  be  collectively  evoked 
and  intensified. 

The  intensity  of  the  collective  emotion  of 
an  unorganized  crowd  is  favoured  by  the  fact 


240  PSYCHOLOGY 

that  each  member  of  a  crowd  tends  to  lose  to 
some  extent  his  sense  of  personal  identity 
and  responsibility;  he  no  longer  stands  alone, 
an  individual  before  the  eyes  of  his  fellow- 
men,  but  feels  himself  an  undistinguishable 
unit  of  a  mass  on  which,  rather  than  on  its 
units,  the  judgment  of  the  rest  of  the  world 
must  be  passed.  Hence  each  man  is  apt  to 
let  himself  go,  to  make  little  effort  to  control 
himself. 

The  emotional  excitability  of  the  crowd  is 
very  unfavourable  to  its  intellectual  processes; 
for  intense  emotion  renders  men  uncritical, 
hasty,  biased  in  judgment,  and  easily  led  to 
belief  by  mere  suggestion.  The  diminished 
sense  of  personal  responsibility  of  the  mem- 
bers of  a  crowd  makes  in  the  same  direction. 
But  the  influence  most  deleterious  to  the  qual- 
ity of  collective  judgment  and  reasoning  is 
what  may  be  called  mass-suggestion.  Every 
man  is  to  some  extent  suggestible;  every  one 
is  a  little  inclined  to  believe  a  proposition 
which  is  confidently  made  to  him;  and,  if  the 
same  proposition  is  made  to  him  by  a  hundred 
or  a  thousand  men,  it  becomes  difficult  for 
him  to  retain  a  critical  attitude  towards  it. 
But  now,  when  a  great  crowd  acclaims  a 
statement  made  by  an  orator,  the  proposition 
not  only  comes  to  each  member  as  the  ac- 


SOCIAL  PSYCHOLOGY  241 

cepted  opinion  of  each  of  his  fellow-members; 
but  the  fact  that  these  constitute  a  crowd,  a 
vast  whole  impressive  by  reason  of  its  mass, 
its  power,  its  unknown  possibilities,  renders 
each  man  more  suggestible,  more  ready  to 
accept  its  opinions  uncritically,  than  if  he 
merely  heard  the  same  opinion  expressed  by 
the  same  number  of  individuals.  The  most 
striking  illustration  of  this  suggestibility  of 
crowds  is  afforded  by  many  recorded  instances 
of  collective  hallucination  thus  induced,  in- 
stances in  which  all  or  most  of  the  members 
of  a  crowd  have  been  led  to  perceive  objects 
that  had  no  existence,  objects  such  as  the 
sea-serpent,  or  a  fiery  cross,  or  even  a  host 
of  men  or  angels  in  the  clouds. 

By  reason,  then,  of  its  emotional  excita- 
bility, its  high  degree  of  suggestibility,  and 
the  diminished  sense  of  responsibility  of  its 
members,  the  behaviour  of  the  fortuitous 
unorganized  crowd  is  apt  to  be  of  a  kind  much 
inferior  to  the  average  behaviour  of  its  units 
when  they  think  and  act  as  individuals. 

Few  crowds,  however,  are  altogether  fortui- 
tous. A  crowd  is  commonly  brought  together 
by  some  common  interest  or  purpose  in  the 
minds  of  the  individuals  that  compose  it,  a 
common  interest  in  sport,  or  music,  or  politics, 
or  religion,  a  common  loyalty  or  a  common 


242  PSYCHOLOGY 

resentment.  Any  such  crowd,  then,  is  com- 
posed of  less  diverse  units  than  a  fortuitous 
crowd:  it  may  be  said  to  possess  a  certain 
homogeneity  of  composition  in  so  far  as  its 
units  are  possessed  of  common  knowledge, 
common  opinions,  and  common  sentiments. 
Some  degree  of  homogeneity  is  a  necessary 
condition  of  all  collective  mental  process. 
A  fortuitous  gathering  of  persons  of  various 
nationalities,  of  various  levels  of  culture, 
speaking  different  languages  and  possessing 
widely  different  opinions  and  sentiments, 
could  display  only  the  crudest  of  all  forms  of 
collective  process,  namely,  the  panic.  And 
the  more  homogeneous  is  the  crowd,  the  more 
capable  is  it  of  truly  collective  thinking  and 
acting.  But,  so  long  as  the  crowd  possesses 
no  organization,  its  homogeneity  will  tend 
only  to  intensify  the  peculiarities  of  collective 
mental  process  that  we  have  already  noted. 

Are  we  to  conclude,  then,  that  to  share  in 
collective  mental  life,  to  be  a  member  of  a 
group,  is  necessarily  to  suffer  degradation  of 
one's  mental  life?  Such  a  conclusion  (and 
it  is  often  asserted  or  implied)  would  be  a  very 
serious  error. 

It  is  only  by  sharing  in  the  collective  life 
of  organized  societies  that  the  mass  of  men 
is  raised  above  a  very  low  level  of  almost 


SOCIAL  PSYCHOLOGY  243 

purely  selfish  behaviour;  and  it  is  through 
such  sharing  that  great  numbers  of  men  are 
raised  to  a  level  of  consistently  public- 
spirited  conduct  and  even  to  heights  of 
heroic  self-sacrifice. 

The  principal  task  of  collective  pyschology 
is,  then,  to  show  how  organization  of  societies 
produces  this  paradoxical  result;  namely, 
that,  whereas  the  collective  behaviour  of  the 
unorganized  group  implies  a  much  lower  level 
of  mental  process  than  the  individual  be- 
haviour of  its  average  units,  and  thus  involves 
a  degradation  of  its  component  individuals, 
the  collective  life  of  a  well-organized  society 
commonly  attains  a  higher  level,  both  intel- 
lectually and  morally,  than  could  be  individu- 
ally attained  by  its  average  members,  and 
raises  many  of  those  who  participate  in  it 
to  much  higher  levels  of  thought  and  action. 

A  single  example  may  serve  to  illustrate 
the  fact  and  to  indicate  the  lines  along  which 
the  solution  of  the  paradox  is  to  be  found.  A 
well-organized  patriot  army,  such  as  the 
Japanese  army  that  fought  in  the  late  war, 
illustrates  the  facts  most  strikingly  and  simply. 
The  organization  of  such  an  army  is  relatively 
simple,  yet  in  other  respects  it  is  of  the  highest 
type;  for  it  is  the  product  of  deliberate  design 
and  of  the  voluntary  acceptance  and  working 


244  PSYCHOLOGY 

out  of  the  design  by  all  its  members.  The 
movements  of  the  whole  army  express  a 
degree  of  intelligence  which  far  surpasses  that 
of  its  average  members;  namely,  the  intelli- 
gence of  the  commander-in-chief  and  of  a 
highly  selected  and  trained  staff,  deliberating 
and  deciding  with  the  aid  of  a  vast  amount 
of  detailed  information  supplied  by  sub- 
ordinates, and  in  the  light  of  the  knowledge 
of  the  principles  of  war  accumulated  by 
successive  generations  of  mankind.  The 
essential  condition  that  raises  the  intellectual 
level  of  the  collective  behaviour  of  such  an 
army  is  so  obvious,  that  it  may  seem  needless 
to  state  it  in  words;  it  is  such  an  organization 
as  gives,  to  those  best  qualified  to  judge  of  any 
question,  the  decisive  voice  in  the  formation 
of  opinion  upon  it.  But  it  is  no  less  true, 
though  less  obvious,  that  all  collective  deliber- 
ation and  decision,  whether  of  a  committee,  a 
parliament,  or  a  whole  nation,  can  only  be 
saved  from  the  imbecilities  of  the  unorganized 
crowd  by  the  existence  of  such  an  organization 
as  gives  predominant  influence  and  respon- 
sibility to  those  members  best  qualified  for 
arriving  at  just  conclusions.  It  may  be 
added  that  the  extreme  simplicity  and  effec- 
tiveness of  the  organization  of  the  army  on 
its  intellectual  side  is  only  rendered  possible 


SOCIAL  PSYCHOLOGY  245 

by  the  fact,  that  the  collective  action  of  the 
group  is  directed  towards  a  single  end,  which 
end  is  perfectly  defined  and  is  accepted  and 
willed  by  every  member  of  the  group;  namely, 
the  ultimate  defeat  of  the  enemy. 

On  the  moral  side  also  the  collective  life 
of  such  an  army  rises  to  a  high  level  in  virtue 
of  its  organization.  It  is  true  that  it  owes 
much  to  the  fact  that  a  common  purpose 
animates  all  its  members;  for  even  an  un- 
organized mob  animated  by  a  common  pur- 
pose, such  as  a  lynching  mob,  may  display 
a  considerable  degree  of  resolution.  The 
moral  force  displayed  by  an  army  depends 
also  in  large  measure  upon  sympathetic 
intensification  of  emotion;  though,  as  the 
liability  of  almost  all  armies  to  panic  shows, 
sympathetic  contagion  may  work  adversely 
also. 

But  the  main  condition  of  the  attainment 
by  the  army  of  a  high  moral  level  is  the  exist- 
ence of  the  group-spirit.  By  the  group-spirit 
we  mean  the  existence  in  each  soldier's  mind 
of  a  clear  knowledge  or  idea  of  the  army  and 
of  his  place  in  it  and  of  his  part  in  its  life, 
accompanied  by  a  sentiment  of  devotion  to 
it.  It  is  the  existence  in  each  mind  of  this 
sentiment  that  alone  renders  possible  a  truly 
collective  volition;  it  is  this  which  sustains 


246  PSYCHOLOGY 

each  man  throughout  long  months  of  fatigue 
and  discomfort  and  which  plays  a  part  of 
decisive  importance  at  each  critical  moment 
of  battle,  as  when  the  charging  line  wavers 
under  the  hail  of  bullets.  And  in  the  wisely 
organized  army,  the  group-spirit  is  not  single 
but  multiple;  each  man  entertains  not  only 
a  sentiment  of  devotion  to  the  army  as  a 
whole,  which  leads  him  to  desire  its  success 
and  glory,  but  also  similar  sentiments  for  his 
corps,  his  regiment,  his  company,  which  lead 
him  to  desire,  and  to  do  his  utmost  to  achieve, 
the  success  and  glory  of  each  of  these  groups 
with  which  he  identifies  himself,  in  friendly 
rivalry  with  the  similar  groups.  For  it  is  a 
most  beneficent  characteristic  of  the  group- 
sentiment,  that  devotion  to  any  group  is  per- 
fectly compatible  with,  and  even  favourable 
to  the  strength  of,  a  similar  sentiment  for 
any  larger  group  that  comprises  the  lesser. 
The  development  of  the  group-spirit,  the  in- 
fluence upon  it  of  traditions,  and  symbols, 
and  territorial  grouping,  and  so  forth,  are 
therefore  of  great  importance  for  the  military 
psychologist,  with  whom  it  lies  to  display 
the  principal  conditions  of  success  and  of 
failure  in  war. 

Yet  another  condition  of  high  morality  is 
secured  for  an  army,  if  it  is  so  organized  that 


SOCIAL  PSYCHOLOGY  247 

the  men  with  the  firmest  courage  and  finest 
enthusiasm  occupy  the  positions  of  greatest 
prestige;  for  then  their  temper  will  inspire 
those  who  stand  next  to  them,  and  will  be 
transmitted  by  these  downwards  through  the 
whole  system. 

These  are  a  few  of  the  psychological  prin- 
ciples by  the  operation  of  which  the  collective 
life  of  the  group  may  be  raised  far  above 
that  of  the  unorganized  crowd.  It  must  be 
noticed  that  the  basal  principles  of  all  collec- 
tive life,  namely,  sympathetic  contagion, 
mass-suggestion,  and  imitation,  are  not  sus- 
pended in  the  well-organized  group;  they  work 
in  it  as  strongly  as  in  the  crowd,  but  their  op- 
eration is  modified  and  turned  wholly  to  good. 

The  study  of  other  types  of  organized 
groups,  the  savage  tribe,  the  secret  society, 
the  political  party,  or  the  trade-union,  enables 
us  to  elaborate  these  fundamental  principles 
and  to  supplement  them  with  others  of  less 
importance;  and  in  this  way  collective  psy- 
chology prepares  itself  to  gain  some  under- 
standing of  the  most  complex,  interesting,  and 
important  form  of  collective  mind;  namely, 
the  mind  of  a  modern  nation-state. 

The  phrase  "national  character"  is  in  com- 
mon use;  but  those  who  use  it  seldom  make 
clear  in  which  of  its  two  senses  they  mean  it 


248  PSYCHOLOGY 

to  be  understood.  Perhaps  it  is  commonly 
meant  to  denote  the  character  of  some  hypo- 
thetical individual  who  may  be  regarded  as 
the  type  or  average  representative  of  the 
nation.  But  the  other  meaning  of  the  phrase 
must  be  clearly  distinguished  from  this.  A 
nation  with  a  long  past  and  a  vast  system  of 
living  traditions  and  institutions  has  a  char- 
acter which  is  not  by  any  means  merely  the 
sum  or  resultant  of  the  characters  of  all  its 
component  units.  For  this  character  is  largely 
determined  by  these  traditions  and  institu- 
tions; and  these  are  the  joint  product  of  the 
characters  of  the  individuals  of  foregoing 
generations  and  of  the  historical  circum- 
stances of  the  life  of  the  nation  through  many 
centuries.  In  the  same  sense  and  for  the 
same  reasons,  a  nation  has  also  a  collec- 
tive national  intellect  as  well  as  a  collective 
national  character. 

The  application  of  the  principles  of  col- 
lective psychology  to  the  understanding  of  the 
lives  of  particular  nations,  or  of  other  histori- 
cal groups,  constitutes  the  third  field  of  social 
psychology.  In  this  great  field  of  research 
psychology  cannot  walk  alone,  but  has  to  co- 
operate with  other  sciences,  especially  political 
history  and  economic  science;  and  the  proper 
division  of  the  work  between  these  several 


SOCIAL  PSYCHOLOGY  249 

studies  and  the  science  of  sociology  is  at 
present  a  hotly  disputed  problem.  Without 
entering  into  that  difficult  question,  we  may 
insist  that,  in  the  interpretation  of  the  life  of 
nations,  the  application  of  the  principles  of 
collective  mental  life  is  not  the  whole  of  the 
psychological  work  that  has  to  be  done. 

There  remains  for  the  psychologist  the  work 
of  describing  the  mental  peculiarities  of  the 
individuals  that  compose  the  various  nations 
and  the  classes  within  them,  and  especially 
he  has  to  try  to  define  the  innate  peculiarities 
of  their  mental  constitutions.  That  is  to  say, 
collective  psychology  has  to  invoke  the  aid 
of  the  comparative  psychology  of  races  and 
classes,  before  it  can  hope  to  accomplish  its 
proper  share  in  the  interpretation  of  history 
and  in  accounting  for  the  peculiarities  of  the 
collective  life  of  each  nation.  For,  however 
great  the  influence  of  traditions,  of  institu- 
tions, and  of  economic  conditions,  in  deter- 
mining the  course  of  life  and  the  success  or 
failure  of  a  nation,  the  innate  qualities  of  the 
population  will  make  themselves  felt  and, 
in  the  long  run,  will  exert  a  preponderant 
influence  over  all  other  factors. 

Here  we  have  an  immense  field  awaiting 
exploration.  Much  has  been  written  on  the 
innate  mental  peculiarities  of  races  and 


250  PSYCHOLOGY 

nations;  but  hitherto  we  have  little  more 
than  vague,  though  generally  dogmatic,  ex- 
pressions of  opinion,  unsupported  by  any 
attempt  at  exact  observation,  and,  for  the 
most  part,  expressed  by  writers  who  have  not 
even  grasped  the  nature  of  the  problems  to 
be  solved.  The  tasks  immediately  confronting 
the  psychologist  in  this  field  are,  then,  the 
definition  of  the  problems  and  the  working 
out  of  methods  by  which  they  may  be  profit- 
ably attacked. 

The  prime  difficulty  of  all  work  in  this  field 
is  that  of  distinguishing  between  the  innate 
and  the  acquired  mental  structure,  to  which 
reference  was  made  in  an  earlier  chapter.  But 
the  comparative  study  of  peoples  may  throw 
light  on  this  question,  and  is  perhaps  more 
capable  of  doing  so  than  any  other  method 
of  approaching  it.  For,  since  the  innate 
qualities  of  any  people  constantly,  and  genera- 
tion after  generation,  exert  a  shaping  and 
selective  influence  upon  the  growth  of  its 
culture  and  institutions,  we  may  expect  to 
find  them  reflected  there.  This,  then,  is  one 
of  the  tasks  of  comparative  racial  psychology. 
But  its  main  work  must  be  the  description  of 
the  innate  mental  peculiarities  of  races  and 
peoples.  We  want  to  know  just  what  are  the 
differences  in  regard  to  mental  endowment 


SOCIAL  PSYCHOLOGY  251 

between  the  Yellow,  the  Black,  and  the  White 
races,  between  the  Celt  and  the  Teuton  and 
the  Slav,  the  Arab  and  the  Jew  and  the 
Armenian.  We  want  to  know  how  these 
differences  have  been  produced.  We  want  to 
know  the  effect  upon  innate  mental  structure 
of  the  crossing  of  races,  and  whether  popula- 
tions formed  by  the  crossing  of  races  can 
properly  be  said  to  form  in  course  of  time 
new  stable  sub-races.  We  want  also  to  know 
whether  any  differences  of  innate  mental 
quality  obtain  between  the  various  sections 
and  social  strata  of  our  great  complex  national 
societies.  And  especially  we  want  to  know 
what  changes,  if  any,  are  being  brought  about 
in  the  innate  mental  constitution  of  these 
populations  under  then*  present  conditions; 
whether,  as  some  assert,  various  forms  of 
social  selection  are  making  strongly  for 
deterioration;  or  whether,  as  is  commonly 
believed,  the  civilized  stocks  continue  to 
evolve  a  higher  type  of  mental  structure;  or 
lastly,  whether  the  principal  change  being 
effected  is  not  a  greater  differentiation,  re- 
sulting in  the  production  of  a  comparatively 
low-grade  mass  of  population  at  one  end  of  the 
scale,  and  of  a  number  of  stocks  of  exceptional 
ability  and  moral  stamina  at  the  other.  AH 
these  are  questions  that  must  be  answered 


252  PSYCHOLOGY 

in  detail,  before  we  can  build  up  a  true  science 
of  society,  a  science  that  will  point  the  way 
to  such  a  political  and  social  organization  as 
will  offer  some  guarantee  of  stability  and  some 
prospect  of  the  continued  progress  of  human 
mind  and  human  culture. 

All  these  problems  fall  within  the  province 
of  psychology,  and  can  be  solved  only  through 
the  progress  of  that  science. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

FOR  GENERAL  SURVEY 

WILLIAM  JAMES — Principles  of  Psychology  (Henry  Holt  &  Co.). 
G.  F.  STOUT — Manual  of  Psychology  (Clive  &  Co.). 
JAMES  WARD — Art.  "Psychology,"  Ency.  Brit. 
WM.  McDouGALL — Body  and  Mind  (Methuen  &  Co.). 

EXPERIMENTAL  AND  PHYSIOLOGICAL 
PSYCHOLOGY 

C.  S.  MYERS — Introduction  to  Experimental  Pyschology 

(G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons). 

G.  T.  LADD  and  R.  S.  WOODWOHTH — Elements  of  Physiological 
Psychology  (Scribner). 

WM.  McDouoALL — Primer  of  Physiological  Psychology 

(Macmillan). 

G.  M.  STRATTON — Experimental  Psychology  and  its  Bearing 
on  Culture  (Macmillan  &  Co.). 

MENTAL  DEVELOPMENT  AND  EVOLUTION 

L.  T.  HOBHOUSE — Mind  in  Evolution  (Macmillan  &  Co.). 
W.  M.  KEATINOE — Suggestion  in  Education  (Macmillan). 
STANLEY  HALL — Adolescence  (Appleton  &  Co.). 
JAMES  SULLY — Teacher's  Handbook  of  Psychology  (Longmans). 

R  R.  MARETT — Anthropology 

(Home  University  Library,  Henry  Holt  &  Co.). 
Ml 


256  BIBLIOGRAPHY 

THE  ANIMAL  MIND 

C.  LLOYD  MORGAN — Animal  Behaviour  (Longmans). 

G.  W.  &  E.  G.  PECKHAM — Wasps,  Social  and  Solitary 

(Houghton  Mifflin  Co.). 

E.  L.  THORNDIKE — Animal  Intelligence  (Macmillan). 
M.  F.  WASHBTJRN — The  Animal  Mind  (Macmillan). 

THE  ABNORMAL 

F.  W.  H.  MYERS — Human  Personality  and  its  Survival  of 

Bodily  Death  (abridged  ed.,  Longmans). 

A.  MOLL — Hypnotism  (Contemporary  Science    Series) 

(Scribner). 

WILLIAM  JAMES — The  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience 

(Longmans). 

BERNARD  HART — Abnormal  Psychology  (Camb.  Univ.  Press). 

MORTON  PRINCE  and  other  writers — Psychotherapeutics 

(Badger). 
Sir  W.  F.  BARRETT — Psychical  Research 

(Home  University  Library,  Henry  Holt  &  Co.). 

SOCIAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

GRAHAM  WALLAS — Human  Nature  in  Politics 

(Houghton  Mifflin  Co.). 

WM.  McDouGALL — An  Introduction  to  Social  Psychology 

(J.  W.  Luce). 

G.  LB  BON—  The  Crowd  (Macmillan). 

£.  A.  Ross — Social  Psychology  (Macmillan). 


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Scholar  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge.  "It  is  difficult  to  imagine 
how  a  better  account  of  French  Literature  could  be  given  in  250  pages." 
— London  Times, 

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62.  PAINTERS  AND  PAINTING.    By  Sir  Frederick  Wedmore.    With 
16  half -tone  illustrations. 

38.  ARCHITECTURE.  By  Prof.  W.  R.  Lethaby.  An  introduction  to 
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Professor  of  Bio-Chemistry,  Liverpool. 

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Geology,   Glasgow   University.      38   maps   and    figures.      Describes 
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how  the  human  body  developed. 

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ology, Dalhousie  University,  Halifax.  Explains  in  non-technical 
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quainted with  the  scientific  volumes  in  the  series,  this  should  prove 
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Observatory.    "Decidedly  original  in  substance,  and  the  most  readable 
and  informative  little  book  on  modern  astronomy  we  have  seen  for  a 
long    time." — Nature. 

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dent of  the  Society  for  Psychical  Research. 

9.  THE  EVOLUTION  OF  PLANTS.  By  Dr.  D.  H.  Scott,  President 
of  the  Linnean  Society  of  London.  The  story  of  the  development 
of  flowering  plants,  from  the  earliest  zoological  times,  unlocked  from 
technical  language. 


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Chemistry   and   Radioactivity,   University   of   Glasgow.    "Brilliant. 
Can  hardly  be  surpassed.     Sure  to  attract   attention." — New  York 
•Sun. 

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Dougall,  of  Oxford.    A  well  digested  summary  of  the  essentials  of  the 
science  put  in  excellent  literary  form  by  a  leading  authority. 

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A  compact  statement  by  the  Emeritus  Professor  at  Glasgow,  for 
uninstructed  readers. 

37.  ANTHROPOLOGY.  By  R.  R.  Mafett,  Reader  in  Social  Anthro- 
pology, Oxford.  Seeks  to  plot  out  and  sum  up  the  general  series  of 
changes,  bodily  and  mental,  undergone  by  man  in  the  course  of 
history.  "Excellent.  So  enthusiastic,  so  clear  and  witty,  and  so 
well  adapted  to  the  general  reader." — American  Library  Association 
Booklist. 

17.  CRIME  AND  INSANITY.  By  Dr.  C.  Mercier,  author  of  "Crime 
and  Criminals,"  etc. 

12.    THE  ANIMAL  WORLD.    By  Prof .  F.  W.  Gamble. 

15.    INTRODUCTION  TO   MATHEMATICS.     By  A.  N.  Whitehead, 

author  of  "Universal  Algebra." 

PHILOSOPHY  AND  RELIGION. 


69.    A  HISTORY  OF  FREEDOM  OF  THOUGHT.    By  John  B.  Bury, 

M.  A.,  LL.  D.,  Regius  Professor  of  Modern  History  in  Cambridge 
University.  Summarizes  the  history  of  the  long  struggle  between 
authority  and  reason  and  of  the  emergence  of  the  principle  that  co- 
ercion of  opinion  is  a  mistake. 

96.    A  HISTORY  OF  PHILOSOPHY.    By  Clement  C.  J.  Webb,  Oxford. 

35.    THE  PROBLEMS  OF  PHILOSOPHY.    By  Bertrand  RusselL  Lec- 
turer and  Late  Fellow,  Trinity  College,  Cambridge. 

60.    COMPARATIVE  RELIGION.    By  Prof.  J.  Estlm  Carpenter.     "One 

of  the  few  authorities  on  this  subject  compares  all  the  religions  to 
see  what  they  have  to  offer  on  the  great  themes  of  religion." — Chris- 
tian Work,  and  Evangelist. 

44.    BUDDHISM.    By  Mrs.  Rhys  Davids,  Lecturer  on  Indian  Philoso- 
phy, Manchester. 

46.    ENGLISH  SECTS:  A  HISTORY  OF  NONCONFORMITY.    ByW.B. 
Selbie.    Principal  of  Manchester  College,  Oxford. 


55.  MISSIONS:  THEIR  RISE  AND  DEVELOPMENT.  By  Mrs.  Man- 
dell  Creighton,  author  of  "History  of  England."  The  author  seeks  to 
prove  that  missions  have  done  more  to  civilize  the  world  than  any 
other  human  agency. 

52.  ETHICS.  By  G.  E.  Moore,  Lecturer  in  Moral  Science,  Cambridge. 
t)iscusses  what  is  right  and  what  is  wrong,  and  the  whys  and  where- 
fores. 

65.  THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  OLD  TESTAMENT.  By  George  F. 
Moore.  Professor  of  the  History  of  Religion,  Harvard  University  "A 
popular  work  of  the  highest  order.  Will  be  profitable  to  anybody 
who  cares  enough  about  Bible  study  to  read  a  serious  book  on  the 
subject."— American  Journal  of  Theology. 

88.  RELIGIOUS  DEVELOPMENT  BETWEEN  OLD  AND  NEW  TESTA- 
MENTS. By  R.  H.  Charles,  Canon  of  Westminster.  Shows  how 
religious  and  ethical  thought  between  180  B.  C.  and  100  A.  D.  grew 
naturally  into  that  of  the  New  Testament. 

50.    THE  MAKING  OF  THE  NEW  TESTAMENT.    By  B.  W.  Bacon, 

Professor  of  New  Testament  Criticism,  Yale.  An  authoritative 
summary  of  the  results  of  modern  critical  research  with  regard  to 
the  origins  of  the  New  Testament. 

SOCIAL  SCIENCE. 

91.  THE  NEGRO.  By  W.  E.  Burghardt  DuBois,  author  of  "Souls  of 
Black  Folks,"  etc.  A  history  of  the  black  man  in  Africa.  America  or 
wherever  else  his  presence  has  been  or  is  important. 

77.  CO-PARTNERSHIP  AND  PROFIT  SHARING.  By  Aneurin  Wil- 
liams, Chairman,  Executive  Committee,  International  Co-opera- 
tive Alliance,  etc.  Explains  the  various  types  of  co-partnership  and 
profit-sharing,  and  gives  details  of  the  arrangements  now  in  force  in 
many  of  the  great  industries. 

99.  POLITICAL  THOUGHT:  THE  UTILITARIANS.  FROM  BENT- 
HAM  TO  J.  S.  MILL.  By  William  L.  P.  Davidson. 

98.  POLITICAL  THOUGHT:  FROM  HERBERT  SPENCER  TO  THE 
PRESENT  DAY.  By  Ernest  Barker,  M.  A. 

79.  UNEMPLOYMENT.  By  A.  C.  Pigou,  M.  A.,  Professor  of  Political 
Economy  at  Cambridge.  The  meaning,  measurement,  distribution, 
and  effects  of  unemployment,  its  relation  to  wages,  trade  fluctuations, 
and  disputes,  and  some  proposals  of  remedy  or  relief. 


80.    COMMON-SENSE  IN  LAW.    By  Prof.  Paul  Vinogradoff,  D.  C.  L., 

LL.  D.  Social  and  Legal  Rules — Legal  Rights  and  Duties — Facts 
and  Acts  in  Law — Legislation — Custom — Judicial  Precedents — Equity 
— The  Law  of  Nature. 

49.    ELEMENTS  OF  POLITICAL  ECONOMY.    By  S.   J.  Chapman, 

Professor  of  Political  Economy  and  Dean  of  Faculty  of  Commerce 
and  Administration,  University  of  Manchester. 

11.  THE  SCIENCE  OF  WEALTH.  By  J.  A.  Hobson,  author  of  "Prob- 
lems of  Poverty."  A  study  of  the  structure  and  working  of  the  modern 
business  world. 

1.    PARLIAMENT.    ITS  HISTORY,  CONSTITUTION,  AND  PRAC- 
TICE.   By  Sir  Courtenay  P.  Ilbert,  Clerk  of  the  House  of  Commons. 

IS.  LIBERALISM.  By  Prof.  L.  T.  Hobhouse,  author  of  "Democracy  and 
Reaction."  A  masterly  philosophical  and  historical  review  of  the  subject . 

5.  THE  STOCK  EXCHANGE.    By  F.  W.  Hirst.  Editor  of  the  London 
Economist.    Reveals  to  the  non-financial  mind  the  facts  about  invest- 
ment, speculation,  and  the  other  terms  which  the  title  suggests. 

10.  THE  SOCIALIST  MOVEMENT.  By  J.  Ramsay  Macdonald,  Chair- 
man of  the  British  Labor  Party. 

28.  THE  EVOLUTION  OF  INDUSTRY.    By  D.  H.  MacGregor,  Professor 
of  Political  Economy,  University  of  Leeds.    An  outline  of  the  recent 
changes  that  have  given  us  the  present  conditions  of  the  working  classes 
and  the  principles  involved. 

29.  ELEMENTS  OF  ENGLISH  LAW.    By  W.  M.  Geldart,  Vinerian 
Professor  of  English  Law,  Oxford.     A  simple  statement  of  the  basic 
principles   of    the  English  legal  system  on  which  that  of  the  United 
States  is  based. 

32.  THE  SCHOOL:  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  STUDY  OF  EDU- 
CATION. By  J.  J.  Findlay,  Professor  of  Education,  Manchester. 
Presents  the  history,  the  psychological  basis,  and  the  theory  of  the 
school  with  a  rare  power  of  summary  and  suggestion. 

6.  IRISH  NATIONALITY.    By  Mrs.  J.  R.  Green.    A  brilliant  account 
of  the  genius  and  mission  of  the  Irish  people.    "An  entrancing  work, 
%nd  I  would  advise  every  one  with  a  drop  of  Irish  blood  in  his  veins 
or  a  vein  of  Irish  sympathy  in  his  heart  to  read  it." — Neto  Yorl^  Times' 
Review. 


GENERAL  HISTORY  AND  GEOGRAPHY. 

102.  SERBIA.  By  L.  F.  Waring,  with  preface  by  J.  M.  Jovanovitch, 
Serbian  Minister  to  Great  Britain.  The  main  outlines  of  Serbian 
history,  with  special  emphasis  on  the  immediate  causes  of  the  war. 
and  the  question  which  will  be  of  greatest  importance  in  the  after- 
the-war  settlement. 

33.  THE  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND.    By  A.  F.  Pollard,  Professor  of 
English  History,  University  of  London. 

95.  BELGIUM.  By  R.  C.  K.  Ensor,  Sometime  Scholar  of  Balliol  College 
The  geographical,  linguistic,  historical,  artistic  and  literary  associa- 
tions. 

100.  POLAND.  By  J.  Alison  Phillips,  University  of  Dublin.  The  history 
of  Poland  with  special  emphasis  upon  the  Polish  qustion  of  the  pre- 
sent day. 

34.  CANADA.    By  A.  G.  Bradley. 

72.    GERMANY  OF  TO-DAY.    By  Charles  Tower. 

78.  LATIN  AMERICA.  By  William  R.  Shepherd,  Professor  of  His- 
tory, Columbia.  With  maps.  The  historical,  artistic,  and  commercial 
development  of  the  Central  South  American  republics. 

18.  THE  OPENING  UP  OF  AFRICA.    By  Sir  H.  H.  Johnston. 

19.  THE  CIVILIZATION  OF  CHINA.    By  H.  A.  Giles,  Professor  of 
Chinese,  Cambridge. 

36.    PEOPLES  AND  PROBLEMS  OF  INDIA.    By  Sir  T.  W.  Holderness, 

"The  best  small  treatise  dealing  with  the  range  of  subjects  fairly  in- 
dicated by  the  title."—  The  Dial. 

26.  THE  DAWN  OF  HISTORY.  By  J.  L.  Myers,  Professor  of  Ancient 
History,  Oxford. 

92.    THE  ANCIENT  EAST.    By  D.G.  Hogarth,  M.  A.,  F.  B.  A.,  F.S.  A., 

Connects  with  Prof.  Myers's  "Dawn  of  History"  (No.  26)  at  about 
1000  B.  C.  and  reviews  the  history  of  Assyria,  Babylon,  Cilicia.  Persia 
and  Macedon. 

30.    ROME.    By  W.  Warde  Fowler,  author  of  "Social  Life  at  Rome,"  etc. 

13.    MEDIEVAL  EUROPE.    By  H.  W.  C.  Davis,  Fellow  at  Balliol  CoU 

lege,  Oxford,  author  of  "Charlemagne,"  etc. 
3.    THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.    By  Hilaire  Belloc. 

57.  NAPOLEON,  By  H.  A.  L.  Fisher,  Vice-Chancellor  of  Sheffield  Uni- 
versity. Author  of  "The  Republican  Tradition  in  Europe." 

20.  HISTORY  OF  OUR  TIME.  (1885-1911).    By  C.  P.  Gooch. 

22.  THE  PAPACY  AND  MODERN  TIMES.  By  Rev.  William  Barry, 
D.  D.,  author  of  "The  Papal  Monarchy,"  etc.  The  story  of  the  rise  and 
fall  of  the  Temporal  Power. 


4.    A  SHORT  HISTORY  OF  WAR  AND  PEACE.    By  G.  H.  Ferris, 

author  of  "Russia  in  Revolution,"  etc. 

94.  THE  NAVY  AND  SEA  POWER.  By  David  Hannay,  author  of  "Short 
History  of  the  Royal  Navy,"  etc.  A  brief  history  of  the  navies,  sea 
Power,  and  ship  growth  of  all  nations,  including  the  rise  and  decline 
of  America  on  the  sea,  and  explaining  the  present  British  supremacy. 
8.  POLAR  EXPLORATION.  By  Dr.  W.  S.  Bruce,  Leader  of  the 
"Scotia"  expedition.  Emphasizes  the  results  of  the  expeditions. 

51.  MASTER  MARINERS.  By  John  R.  Spears,  author  of  "The  His- 
tory of  Our  Navy,"  etc.  A  history  of  sea  craft  adventure  from  the 
earliest  times. 

86.    EXPLORATION  OF  THE  ALPS.    By  Arnold  Lunn,  M.  A. 
7.    MODERN  GEOGRAPHY.    By  Dr.  Marion  Newbigin.    Shows  the  re- 
lation  of  physical  features  to  living  things  and  to  some  of  the  chief  in- 
stitutions of  civilization. 

76.  THE  OCEAN.  A  GENERAL  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  SCIENCE  OF 
THE  SEA.  By  Sir  John  Murray,  K.  C.  B.,  Naturalist  H.  M.  S.  "Chal- 
lenger," 1872-1876,  joint  author  of  "The  Depths  of  the  Ocean,"  etc. 

84.  THE  GROWTH  OF  EUROPE.  By  Granvilfe  Cole,  Professor  of 
Geology,  Royal  College  of  Science,  Ireland.  A  study  of  the  geology 
and  physical  geography  in  connection  with  the  political  geography. 

AMERICAN  HISTORY. 


47.    THE  COLONIAL  PERIpD  (1607-1766).    By  Charles  McLean  An- 

drews,  Professor  of  American  History,  Yale. 

82.  THE  WARS  BETWEEN  ENGLAND  AND  AMERICA  (1763-1815). 
By  Theodore  C.  Smith,  Professor  of  American  History,  Williams 
College.  A  history  of  the  period,  with  especial  emphasis  on  The  Re- 
volution and  The  War  of  1812. 

67.  FROM  JEFFERSON  TO  LINCOLN  (1815-1860).  By  William  Mac- 
Donald.  Professor  of  History,  Brown  University.  The  author  makes 
the  history  of  this  period  circulate  about  constitutional  ideas  and  slavery 
sentiment. 

25.  THE  CIVIL  WAR  (1854-1865).  By  Frederick  L.  Paxson,  Professor 
of  American  History,  University  of  Wisconsin. 

69.  RECONSTRUCTION  AND  UNION  (1865-1912).  By  Paul  Leland 
Haworth.  A  History  of  the  United  States  in  our  own  times. 

OTHER  VOLUMES  IN  PREPARATION 

HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 

19  West  44th  Street  New  York 


from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


UCSOU7 


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